BARGAIN HUNTER
by Chick Feed
Summary: Dean has a promising date, no way he's gonna be a no show. Not when Sam's concerns are based only on 'gut feeling'. The date doesn't go well, Dean texts Sam to say he'll be coming home, alone. Relieved, Sam waits for Dean's return. Eventually he stops waiting & starts searching. Search turns to hunt when Dean's captor makes contact. Multi-chap fic, D. whump, S. angst. Re-rated 'T'
1. Chapter 1

A.N. Huge thanks to Charlie4short for her much valued beta-ing & her imagination.  
 **Warning : Adult themes. Please note 'M' rating.**

* * *

BARGAIN HUNTER  
 _Having already agreed to a very promising date, Dean doesn't intend  
_ _to be a no show, not when Sam's sole argument against him going is  
_ _a 'gut feeling'; so is indigestion! When Dean texts saying he's cutting  
_ _out on his date, Sam relaxes and waits for his brother to come home.  
_ _Eventually, Sam stops waiting, and starts hunting...  
_ -oOo-

 **Prologue**

"So, she picked _you_ up?"

"Yeah. And why wouldn't she? You know I'm hot, an' _I_ know I'm hot."

"Right...An' you're not vain at all!"

"S'right. I'm just sayin' it like it is Sammy. The ladies like how I'm packaged an', lucky for them, I'm the obligin' type. I'm fully _emansculinated."_

" _Huh_?"

"Y'know, _that_ word...The one that means I'm like a male feminist, I don' get snarky about women doin' the askin'?"

"Well, take your pick. There's _emancipated_ an' then there's _emasculated,_ which one are you?"

"Fine Mr Intellect, so I mispronounced it, but I obviously meant the second one; that's the male version of the other one, ain't it? Kinda liked _my_ version better though an'... _What_?...Why're you sniggerin'?"

"Hang on. See for yourself...Here you go dude. The meanin' of _emasculated_ ."

Sam Winchester watched while Dean read the information from his brother's I-pad, his eyes growing wide and saucer like, and his handsome features resetting themselves into 'mortified', instantly throwing Sam into a helpless fit of the giggles. His laughter increased at Dean's protests in which he pointed out that he and Little Dean were obviously still firmly attached to one another and threatened to reveal the proof unless he be allowed to change his choice to emancipated.

-o-

There were all too many events and periods during the brothers' lives when any brief moment of relaxed good humour between them was so rarely in evidence, that Sam could easily convince himself any such moments had only ever existed in his own dreams. Times like this then, when their lives and the job were not dominated by hopelessness, back breaking stress, soul sapping grief, constant fear and demands on them to achieve the seemingly impossible, were precious to them both. It made Sam hate all the more the fact that he was about to risk loosing this moment and, instead, trigger an argument between them, but there was something he felt he had to share with Dean, something Sam felt was important enough to raise with his older brother despite being unable to provide him with any solid reasoning or evidence.

-o-

Dean was smiling while Sam topped up their coffees and placed what remained in the pot back on the machine's warming plate. His smile quickly faded however when Sam sat opposite him again at the kitchen table, and he saw the serious expression his younger brother now wore. Dean waited, watching Sam frown as he gathered his thoughts before speaking. Staring down into the depths of his coffee, Sam wondered how to start. He needed to somehow impress onto Dean that he was seriously concerned about this woman who had bought Dean a drink, and invited him on a date. Sam had felt the unexpected worry and unease settle heavily in his gut when Dean talked about going to meet up with her again. It wasn't like it was a first for Dean. Women of all ages, shapes, ethnicities and everything else, frequently slipped him their number, or sent bartenders over with drinks for him, or simply flirted with him outrageously and without an ounce of subtlety; sometimes in full view of husbands or partners. Always made for a fun night out _that_ one. Normally when Dean hitched up with some female and told Sam not to wait up for him, Sam would roll his eyes and remind Dean to use a condom. So he himself couldn't understand _why_ , on this occasion, he was experiencing such strong sense of _wrongness_. What Sam _did_ know was things generally didn't end well if he ignored and didn't act on these sudden and powerful feelings, whatever the lack of foundation for them. Raising his head, he took a deep breath.

-o-

"Look Dean, I want to, but I really can't explain this, so there's no point askin' me but, I've got a _seriously_ bad feeling about your date. Somethin's tellin' me this woman equals _big_ trouble...

Dean didn't wait for Sam to finish.

"A 'bad feeling'? Oh, c'mon Sam. You gotta do _way_ better than that if you're gonna try an' compete with what _she's_ offerin'! You weren't even there man, so you gotta give me somethin' to convince me if you're not gonna tell me where this bad feelin's comin' from? You sure it's not just you regrettin' that you didn't come with me to the bar, 'cos maybe if you _had,_ she could'a rustled up a hot friend who likes giants with girly hair?"

A silence fell between the two brothers, finally broken by Dean, his voice consolatory.

"Sammy? Honestly? If this' somethin' about you not wantin' to be on your own? Just say the word an' I'll blow her out. Or instead, how about curlin' your hair an' comin' along with me tonight?"

Sam hitched an eyebrow and stared at his brother with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"Tell me you're kiddin'! Go with you on your date night? You need your hand holdin' or somethin'? And what's all that about me not wantin' to be on my own? Where's _that_ come from? I mean, why _wouldn't_ I wanna have an evening alone, you know? An evenin' completely undisturbed by the Dean Winchester patented verbal diarrhoea?"

Dean put his head in his hands and made a whimpering noise before emerging to look at Sam again.

" _Verbal_...? _Verbal..._? Priceless words of _wisdom_ , little brother of mine. _That's_ what I give you! Not _my_ problem if you've no appreciation kid."

-o-

Sam snorted at the feigned despairing look accompanying Dean's words, before then giving in with a sigh.

"Know what? You're right Dean. I can't give you anythin' solid why you shouldn't head out tonight...So, maybe the churnin' in my gut's _not_ me worryin'?... _Hey_! Now I think about it? Maybe it's just trapped wind?"

Dean hurriedly backed a couple of steps away from his brother while adopting a terrified expression.

" _Crap_! You just keep a hold on yourself Samantha, 'till I get a safe distance away!"

Grinning, Sam watched Dean beating a hasty retreat, heading down the corridor towards his room. Dean was about to disappear at a turn in the hallway when Sam called out after him.

"Tell me this though Dean...How come you didn't just go back to this woman's place _last_ night, like you normally would?"

Pausing to glance back over his shoulder, there was a note of exasperation in Dean's reply.

"Enough Sam. _Seriously_. Stop before you get any more irritating!"

-o-

Dragging the one white tee that had somehow managed to avoid blood, grass, oil, sulphur, indelible under arm stains or smoke damage out of his dirty laundry basket, Dean brought it to his face and sniffed at it. His nose wrinkled at the smell of mothballs and old tobacco which clung to the tee from the case he and Sam had worked when he last wore it.

"Guess it's laundry day today."

Using the tee to bundle up a selection of whites, Dean stopped off at Sam's room, collecting together his brother's white laundry before wandering down to the utility room. When they first moved into the bunker, he had got a kick out of there being washing and drying facilities on site. Now, though, he occasionally missed those past trips to the nearest laundromats. He'd met some very friendly women in those places on occasions. Other times he had just sat, comfortably relaxed and enjoying listening to the everyday conversations of Joe Public as they happened around him.

Noticing that the dryer was full, Dean began emptying it, taking his time to sort the clean cloths into _his_ and _his_ piles and re-introducing socks to their partners. Naturally enough, his thoughts drifted back over the night before, when he was approached by the woman he was due to meet up with again this coming evening.

-oOo-

 **Chapter 1**

-oOo-

Although straight forward enough, the job they had taken on ended with an evening of heavy labour, the culprits being fraternal twins, which meant two graves to dig out and then re-bury after the salt and burn. Tired, Sam had wanted nothing more than to return to the bunker. Having dropped the younger hunter off, Dean had then carried on to a popular bikers' bar, needing to clear the taste of burning bones out from the back of his throat and to be with people who's lives didn't revolve around the supernatural. Dean had been content to find himself a booth situated in a dimly lit corner and sit with his beer and chaser, listening to the background sounds of classic rock. He hadn't even noticed the woman until, coming to a standstill by the booth, she had silently placed another beer and chaser in front of him before lowering herself into the opposite seat. Running long fingers through the heavy fringe of her glossy dark hair, she brushed it back off her face. When she spoke, her voice was surprisingly deep for a woman and carried the hint of a New York twang.

-o-

"You look tired, man. Just get off work?"

He wasn't really in the mood for pointless chit chat, but she had made it impossible for Dean to give her the fast brush-off by presenting him with drinks. He decided he could put up with keeping things light, being friendly for long enough to buy her a drink in return, but at the same time let her know he wasn't up for an all-nighter.

"Yeah, been a long shift. Couple more drinks, then I'm outta here."

The woman regarded him with mild curiosity.

"Heading back home to the wife?"

The woman was obviously fishing. Dean shook his head 'no'.

"Not wife; brother. We share a place together."

She smiled at that.

"Really? Guess you two must be close if you can stand living together?"

Dean shrugged, not willing to open wide the window on his life for the woman.

"We have our ups and downs."

Remembering his manners, he held his hand out to the woman across the table.

"Name's Dean."

-o-

When she shook his hand Dean's curiosity was piqued by the impressive strength in her grip. He took a minute to scrutinize her. Dressed all in black - leather pants, tee and a well-worn leather biker's jacket - she wasn't the pretty and dainty type. Surrounded by thick, sleek, black hair hanging to just beyond her shoulders, her honey-coloured features were strong and well-defined, almost regal. Perfectly shaped eyebrows were set above long-lashed hazel eyes. Her nose followed the classic Roman line, and her mulberry-coloured lips were wide and generous. When she smiled they parted to reveal beautifully even, white teeth. Dean became even more interested.

"Natalie. _Very_ pleased to meet you, Dean."

Introductions over, Natalie stood up to remove her jacket. The sleeveless tee she wore underneath revealed strong, muscular arms, along with a toned and sculptured torso. Clearly the woman worked out, her physique telling Dean she stuck to old-fashioned free weights, quite likely working herself hard most days of the week. It had paid off.

-o-

Out of nowhere, the memory of a certain Sergeant Bates and the compromising photos Kevin Tran had found of her flashed through his mind, followed closely by a mental image that made Dean shift in a kind of pleasant discomfort: himself, naked and vulnerable on a bed, lengths of silk binding his wrists and ankles to the bed posts, looking down at the top of Natalie's head while she got acquainted with Little Dean, at the same time threatening to punish Dean if he made a sound. _Shoulders like that, I bet she can give one hell of a spanking._ Not that he had a thing for that, but he was always up for new experiences, and he'd be lying if he said that he'd never conjured up some pretty kinky fantasies involving Sergeant Bates in the weeks after meeting her.

-o-

Tossing the jacket onto the bench seat, Natalie sat down again and looked at Dean in silence, her gaze roaming his face and upper body, much like he had just been doing to her. Feeling a little awkward, Dean cleared his throat before lifting his beer to his mouth, breaking Natalie's focus on his features. She smiled warmly.

"You're one helluva good-looking guy, Dean. I'm guessing you like to keep in shape?"

Dean smiled, imagining Sam snorting out a laugh at her comment.

"I get to work out now and then."

Natalie's smile widened, and she looked pleased.

"Good."

"Good?"

Natalie shrugged.

"I like guys who take care of themselves."

The Natalie in Dean's earlier fantasy was now clothed in a black leather corset and red leather thong. A black leather cap sat at a jaunty angle on her head and she was running the tip of a riding crop over his bare torso, ready to punish him if he was a bad boy. Dean shifted again, squirming a little, trying to unobtrusively adjust jeans which had become uncomfortably tight. When he spoke, there was a huskier, teasing tone to his voice.

"That's great, 'cause I like hot women in black leather, so...What should we do about it?"

Dean's smile grew a touch broader. He was now automatically following a familiar script; one that would generally end with them both going back to her place later that night.

-o-

Natalie began gathering up her jacket.

"Tonight? Nothin' honey. I'm out with a couple of friends, and I don't desert my friends, not even for a hot ticket like you. Tomorrow night, though, I'll be waiting right here."

Dean was caught by surprise. He wasn't used to being put on hold. He covered his surprise with a mischievous grin.

"Hey! I don't mind keeping all three of you company. Where's these friends of yours?"

Natalie nodded her head towards the furthest pool table.

"That's them, the two playing."

Dean turned and stared at the pair briefly before bringing his attention back to Natalie.

"I see...So, which one's Ugg an' which one's Thugg?"

-o-

Natalie's laugh was unrestrained, and one of the two neckless, steroid-induced, muscle-bound man-mountains that she called friends glanced in their direction, as though checking what was going off and who the woman was with. Natalie waved him back to the game.

"No fair! They're a couple of real sweethearts, once you get to know them. Honest. Jethro, the one on the right? He's got a brilliant sense of humour, has me in stitches. And Jonah? Jethro's cousin? _He_ writes the most awesome poetry."

Dean gave Natalie a quizzical look.

"You're kiddin' me...Right?"

Natalie winked.

"Let me guess. You've reconsidered your offer to keep the three of us company now, huh?"

"I'm happy to give it a miss."

Reaching across the table, Natalie snagged one of Dean's chasers and tossed it down in one before getting to her feet.

"I'll be here alone tomorrow night. Won't say no if anybody wants to keep me company though. Nice talking to you, Dean."

"Yeah, you too...I'll be dropping in again tomorrow. Sounds like we might bump into one another?"

The woman grinned, looking pleased.

" _Highly_ probable I would say. Ciao, Gorgeous."

-o-

Viewing the night ahead as more than promising, Dean kept his look carefully casual, put together to show himself off, without seeming to have given it much thought; aiming for hot, not desperate. Gone was the frequently worn plaid over-shirt. Instead, over his freshly laundered white tee he donned a charcoal grey fine silk shirt which he wore open. The light blue denims he chose had none of the rips or stains of his every day denims. He had even cleaned his boots of dried on graveyard mud. Staring inside his wardrobe, Dean finally grabbed two jackets then headed out of his room and down to the library in search of his brother.

-o-

"Sammy? You in here?"

"Yeah. Whassup?"

Dean planted himself in front of Sam.

"Which do you think? This one?...Or this one?"

And there it was again, that strange knot in Sam's gut, but now he could almost taste it, the _wrongness_. Ignoring the two jackets Dean was holding up for his inspection, Sam stared into his older brother's eyes, his own pleading with the older hunter.

"Really Dean, I...

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Dean lowered the jackets, butting in before Sam could finish his sentence.

" _I_ what, Sam? Have you suddenly started having visions again? Just tell me if you have; at least then I'll understand why you're so against me goin' to meet up with Natalie.

Lowering his gaze, Sam shook his head.

"No. There's been no vision. I wish there _had_ been...All I can tell you is I've got that gut feeling again, even stronger this time. Dean, I'm _certain_ this' some sort of warnin'. I'm serious about this. I think if you go tonight, you could end up walking into some real trouble."

"Or it could be something you ate. Look Sammy, every time one of us sticks our head out the bunker door we could be walking into trouble. Fact is, there's a gorgeous woman gonna be waiting in the bar and it's my turn to buy the drinks. We'll probably stick around for another couple before we leave and move on to having some good old-fashioned consenting adult fun. It's been too long, Sammy. Little Dean's beginning to think I've taken a vow of celibacy. You might get some weird kick outta being a nun, but me? I'm sick'a being a lonely goat herd. You get me?"

Sam carded the fingers of one hand through his hair and nodded, throwing Dean a half smile

"Bizarrely, yes, I get it. _Fine_. Go let little Dean out to play...Crap! Did I just say that? _Gross_! What I mean is, go. Just watch your back and stay alert. And if there's even a _hint_ of something maybe not being right? Promise me you'll get out fast. Agreed?"

Dean grinned.

"You know I will little brother. But trust me, nothing's gonna happen without consent."

"Alright then. And I'd go for the grey suit style jacket rather than dad's old leather. The colour sits better with everything else you're wearing, and it kinda makes you stand out more."

Slipping his arms into the hip length jacket, Dean looked down at himself.

"You mean this one makes me look hotter?"

" _Your_ words, not mine. Now get outta here. Text me later to let me know everything's cool, ok?"

Dean gave his brother a wink.

"Yes, Mother Superior."

 **-oOo-  
** Chick xxx


	2. Chapter 2

_Big 'Hi' to everyone following/favouriting this. Great to know you're out there :D  
_ **Chapter 2  
** -oOo-

With Dean gone, Sam tried to settle down and concentrate on reading a book on sigils and their meanings, eventually giving up when he got to chapter five and realised that he couldn't recall anything he had read in chapters one through four. Heading down to the utility room, he gathered up his clean and neatly folded clothes, smiling to himself at his brother's domesticity. Having a place to call home was good for Dean. He took his time putting the freshly laundered clothes away, resisting the urge to check his phone, then stood staring around the blank walls of his room trying to decide what to do next. Wandering down to the kitchen, he gazed at the uninspiring contents of the refrigerator and, disheartened, recognised that he was in for a long, tedious night. He gave in and checked his phone. No new messages yet.

-o-

The bar was busier than the previous evening, with the wooden tables and bench seats along one wall having been taken up by a dozen or so bikers wearing their gang colours over leather jackets. They were partnered by roughly the same number of blue denim-clad women. The noise and laughter coming from the party was the raucous sound of good friends relaxing in one another's company, happily insulting and threatening each other, vying to be the one with the most embarrassing tale to tell about another of their number. The current target was a woman with blonde hair down to her waist who clutched at her stomach with laughter. At the same time she was both begging and jokingly threatening a short, balding guy not to go on with whatever blush-inducing moment she was central to. In another section of the bar, the pool tables were fully occupied. Here and there in various booths couples leaned in close as they talked together, and the juke box moved from one classic rock song to another.

-o-

Dean was in his element, happy to stay a while if Natalie wanted to. A wave from the drinks bar signalled that Natalie had arrived ahead of him. He grinned and strolled towards her, noticing that she had already ordered drinks for them both. A beer chaser sat on the bar top waiting for him while Natalie herself held a tumbler of clear liquid in one hand. Unabashed, her eyes travelled over Dean appreciatively as he approached, and she raised her glass towards him before emptying the contents in one swallow. Coming to a halt beside her, Dean beckoned to one of the three bar staff.

"Hi. I'm taking a guess that's not water you're drinking?"

Natalie shook her head as she held her glass out for the bartender.

"White rum, neat."

As Dean ordered another whiskey chaser to go with his beer, the woman looked him over again and nodded to herself. Dean began feeling a little awkward under her scrutiny, not a sensation he was used to. He gazed back at her.

"Well? Have I passed inspection?"

Although Natalie smiled as she answered, there was a brief, fleeting moment where Dean thought he saw a serious look cross her face; then she was all smiles again.

"Sure have. With top marks! You're out an' out the best looking guy here, an' I'm lovin' the jacket and jeans combo on you. Not that I'm intendin' for you to keep them on all night. Shall I grab a booth?"

Natalie was already on the move before Dean could answer.

"Here you go, your drinks. Want to pay now, or do you want me to open up a tab and pay before you go?"

-o-

Natalie had stripped off her black jacket and was waiting when Dean carried their drinks over. Smiling warmly, she patted the space alongside her.

"Sit next to me? There's more chance we'll hear one another."

She waited for Dean to settle himself at her side before speaking again.

"Did the barman ask if you wanted to run a tab?"

"Yeah, he did."

"And?"

"Didn't bother. You kinda gave the impression we're not gonna be hanging round long."

Dean felt Natalie's hand grasp his leg, giving it a squeeze just above his knee. Snuggling right into his side, her face only an inch or so from his, she gazed directly at him, watching for his reaction while she began to slide her palm steadily up and onto his thigh. Dean was hyper-aware of the heat from her body next to his, the scent of the heady, musky perfume she wore, the puffs of her breath on his cheek, the rate of her breathing starting to increase, and the warmth of her touch through his denims. Her long, polished nails raked over the material, while she pushed her breasts against his upper arm, moving them slowly from side to side to rub back and forth against him. Dean's own breathing became heavier, deeper. He closed his eyes as her hand headed right to the top of his thigh, settling next to the newly formed bulge in his pants. She was deprived of her goal by Dean covering her hand with his own, capturing it. Her lips brushed his jaw line then he felt the tip of her tongue flick against his neck, distracting him while she wriggled one finger free from under his hand, and stroked it over the tightness in his jeans. With his eyes still closed, Dean gripped the edge of the table with his free hand, swallowing back a moan. She pressed her lips to his ear as she continued to lazily stroke her finger up and down alongside the zip of his denims, and he felt the vibration from her low murmur.

"There you go gorgeous. You're such a _good_ boy. Tell me, this nice? You want more?"

Dean drew in a ragged breath. His chances of trying out his fantasy were looking better every second.

-o-

Staring from his watch to his silent phone, Sam considered whether or not he should ring his brother, just to check to see if his date turned up. There was still time enough to order up a cab and go join Dean for a drink if she was a no-show. Angry towards himself for being, as Dean would tell him, a pussy, Sam chastised himself out loud.

"You're a total asswipe, Samuel Winchester! Of _course_ she turned up for him. Might as well admit it, you're making up reasons to call him 'cause you really _are_ a mother hen! Dammitt Dean...C'mon dude... _Text_ me, will you?"

-o-

Natalie's physical contact with Dean was fast getting to the point of over heated and Dean decided it was time to break contact before they were both compromised. He determinedly extricated himself from Natalie's close and undivided attentions and returned to the bar to grab a couple more drinks. Natalie was showing a definite exhibitionist bent, thrusting herself at him, her hands seemingly everywhere at once, exploring under his tee, running over his thighs, raking through his hair and, before he had broken free, starting to undo the belt around his denims. Dean had the feeling that maybe they wouldn't be leaving quite as soon as he'd expected, provided things didn't progress too far while in full view front of everyone. He could only hope the bartender would eventually kick them out, telling them to get a room, rather than having them arrested for indecent exposure, which was the direction Nat certainly seemed to be headed. _Not like I've never done it in a bar before, just it's normally been after hours an' when everybody else has cleared out!_

-o-

Waiting for the drinks he'd ordered, Dean took no notice when a voluptuous, and very unsteady, blonde weaved her way to the bar and after a couple of attempts, managed to plant herself on a barstool next to where Dean stood. Raising a finger to signal the bartender, she cast her bleary eyes in Dean's direction. Blue eyes ringed with obviously false lashes and eyelids coated with a flaking, streaked layer of thick Barbie pink shadow opened wide, and she blatantly gaped at him.

" _Wow_! Look! S'handsome! _Wan'_ it."

Before Dean could react, she had wrapped her hands around the back of his head and yanked him towards her, instantly locking her lips around his like a suction cup and with so much enthusiasm her forehead collided with Dean's.

-o-

Shocked, Dean reached behind his head and began carefully trying to unlace the woman's fingers and work his lips free of hers. Suddenly, her hands were torn away from him, taking with them some strands of his hair as she was ripped off him by a furious, snarling, Natalie. The bar stool the blonde was half sat on wobbled and overbalanced with the hapless woman's momentum, crashing to the floor with her. Natalie didn't hesitate, throwing herself on top of the woman, she pulled back her arm, hand balled into a fist, intent on punching the blonde's lights out. The fist didn't manage to connect, it's flight curtailed by Dean catching hold of Natalie's arm and hanging on tightly.

"Natalie! _No_! Stop!"

Denied her first target, Natalie spun her head round towards Dean, her lips pulled back from her teeth, her eyes feral, her free hand raised, ready to lash out. Dean was aware of a male voice barking out an order from somewhere behind him.

"Get your girlfriend under control. _Now_!"

Dean reflexively twisted his arm over Natalie's head, wrapping her own limb around her chest, while his left arm snaked around her hips, forcing her close into his body, finding himself having to strain to hold onto her.

" _Enough_ Natalie! _Cool it_ for chrissake! Stop actin' like a _douche!_ "

Three males had appeared who seemed to know the blonde and were helping her to her feet, all the while glaring at Natalie and Dean. One spoke up.

"You should keep that bitch muzzled an' chained, pal."

Dean felt Natalie's muscles tense at the guys words, and he muttered quietly in her ear.

"Do or say _anythin'_ an' you're on your own, I'll be outta here."

Natalie's body gradually relaxed and she watched in silence as the woman's friends began to guide her back across to their group. The woman herself seemed blithely uncomprehending, complaining in a drunken, whiny voice.

"But I wan' anuvver kish wiv the hot guy. I don' wanna go over there. I wanna stay wiv him, he's pretty...Oops! I did a burp. Who drunk my drink?"

-o-

Dean loosened his hold on Natalie but made sure he maintained a firm grip on her wrist as another man planted himself in front of them. Despite being a good bit shorter than Dean, the man folded his arms across his chest and glared sternly at Dean and his date. When he spoke, Dean recognised his voice as being the same one he'd heard ordering him to control Nat.

"I don't put up with trouble in my bar; you both should think yourselves lucky I'm not banning you. Only reason I'm _not_ is 'cos I figure the blonde pawing at you triggered it, and nobody got hurt. _But_ , I see anything else I don't like? You're out. _Both_ of you. And for _good_...That clear enough? Do we have an understanding?"

Dean gave the man a nod.

"You'll get no more trouble from us, friend. I promise."

Feeling embarrassed, Dean virtually frog matched the still silent Natalie back to their booth and, after sitting her down, he moved to take the seat across from her. An action that didn't go unnoticed by Natalie and she bowed her head as if in shame.

"Care to explain to me what just happened Nat?"

-o-

Raising her head a little, Natalie gazed up at Dean from under her long lashes, and answered him in an irritating, simpering and childish voice.

"I'm sorry, Deanie. _Really_ I am. I didn't know she was so drunk, I just saw how she grabbed a hold of you when you hadn't even _looked_ at her, then she sorta impaled you on her face...I completely lost it!"

 _Deanie? An' what's with the whinin' Brittany Spears voice?_ "Yeah, I noticed that. Pretty extreme reaction over a guy you just met, don't you think?"

"I know, and you're right, you are. I hate how I reacted, and I'm _so_ ashamed. I'd go over there right now and apologise to prove it to you, but I don't think her friends would let me near. Please, you have to believe me, I've _never_ reacted like that before but...Well...You're so hot, and she was so... _Blonde_. I got scared you'd like her more than me, and I couldn't stand the idea of missing my chance with you."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at that and felt a twinge of unease.

"Your _chance_?"

"Yeah...Oh _, and_ I think I might be pre-menstrual right mow."

His second eyebrow joined the first and his unease increased.

 _Way too much information, lady. "_ Look Natalie. I think we need to clarify somethin'. I'm not here looking to start up a relationship, not with you, or anyone else. I thought we both understood that?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3  
** -oOo-

As if Dean hadn't spoken, Natalie suddenly sat up straight, casting a wide eyed gaze over the table top between them.

"Oooh, Deanie! Look! You didn't bring our drinkies. Natalie to the rescue! _Whoosh_! Away I go!"

Dean could only look on in astonishment as his date bounced up out of her seat and half skipped, half bunny hopped all the way to the bar, where she looked back and gave him a cheery wave then blew him a kiss.

 _Holy shit! What the Hell's goin' on with her?_ _This' all kinds of crazy. So far she's swung from_ _confident seductress an' exhibitionist, through psycho Hell cat, to brain free Super Bimbo. Looks like Sammy got it right with this one._

Reaching for his phone, Dean quickly sent a text to his brother.

-o-

When his phone did alert him to the arrival of a new message, it startled Sam to such an extent that he came close to choking on the lettuce he was midway through swallowing. Still coughing, he snatched up his phone from a small side table positioned next to the armchair he was slumped in and quickly opened up the text. Swiftly scanning it Sam frowned, then read it a second time, more slowly...

In bar with Nat Some kinda freak split personality Gonna  
be heading back home + alone + tonight Will bring supper _._

Relieved to know Dean intended to return to the bunker from the bar, Sam instantly felt his anxieties disperse and he allowed himself to relax for the first time that evening. Intrigued by his brother's brief description of his date, Sam was already looking forward to hearing what the reasons were that gave rise to Dean's impression of the woman he was currently with.

-o-

Dean stared in horror at the two large glasses Natalie was carrying when she scampered back from the bar. Pausing, she donned an expression of complete innocence. Glancing down at the drinks she held, she looked back at Dean.

"What?"

Dean's eyes followed the concoction as she set it down in front of him.

"I dunno...Is it a drink?...Or a meal?"

Dropping down onto her seat, Natalie stood her own glass on the table top and leaned forward, carefully studying it through narrowed eyes before sitting upright again with a broad smile.

"Whichever. It's really, truly good for you."

"How so?"

Nat picked up her glass.

"Looksee. There's all that fruity floralness floatin' about in there...Gotta be chock full of vitamins, so that makes it healthy, don't it? Bums up!"

-o-

She pursed those plump lips around the stripy straw poking out of the concoction, and Dean's eyebrows raised as, fascinated, he watched the liquid level in Natalie's glass swiftly go down. He laughed out loud at the happy snortling, farting noises she created as she determinedly sucked at the tiny traces of liquid remaining in the bottom of her glass. At last accepting that she had drained all she could, she concentrated on scooping the pieces of fruit and flowers out of the bottom of her glass with her fingers and snacking on them. Finally finished, she sat back with a contented sigh.

"Yum! Delicious...Oh. You haven't even had one iddy biddy taste. _Oh,_ I gedditt! It's the flowers putting you off. S'ok Deanie, they're all safe to eat."

Lowering his head to his glass, Dean sniffed uncertainly at one of the bright purple flower heads.

"No...It's not the flowers, they're...It's just...Um... _Ok_ , there's the flowers. And that huge blob of cream in the middle that's got some crazy glitter infestation going on...Oh, wait a second...Is it?... _Yup_. Ok, forget about the cream part, it's sinking fast anyway...Nat? Does it look like it's curdling to you?"

-o-

Natalie gazed at Dean despairingly.

"Deanie. Just try it. I _guarantee_ you'll like it. Go on...For _me_?"

Dean continued to glare suspiciously down at the glass' contents.

"But, Nat, aside from everythin' else, it's…you know... _Pink!"_

"And?"

Dean glanced theatrically left and right before lowing his voice to a whisper.

" _And_. I'm never gonna be able to use this bar ever again!"

-o-

His date crossed her arms and stared at Dean with her lips pursed. Dean was certain that he saw a brief flash of feral return to her eyes.

 _Ok, that's it. I'm done with Miss Split Personality. We're over. I'll finish this thing an' figure out an excuse that's gonna get me untangled from this mess an' outta here without losing any important, or otherwise, body parts._

Decision made, Dean lowered his head towards the drinking straw, narrowly avoiding impaling himself up his right nostril on the little mini umbrella which, for reasons he had never understood and couldn't begin to fathom, always seemed to pointlessly turn up in cocktails.

-o-

Three further pink cocktails later and Dean believed he had identified the main problems presented by the race of tiny umbrellas.

 _So, lemme see. Biggestest...est problem. If it starts rainin' in here, these things'd be not any good...Not some good...No good...Purposelessess. For first, they're Barbie-doll sized teeny weeny. An' for second, dumbass things went an' got made outta paper, so they'll all go ever so pathetic n' mushy floppy droppy...Yup...That right there's the nutshell of it._

Dean slowly counted up his collection of umbrellas, finally settling on four _._ Picking one up off the table, he waffed it around in the air, level with his shoulder

 _Don't seem like anybody but me's spotted the problem, 'cos they keep on givin' 'em to folks.._

Having deemed that the umbrella issue was important enough to make public, and after _all,_ it _was_ his job to save people! He agreed with himself that the polite thing to do was to first bring the crisis to the attention of his date...Soon as he'd decided which one of the two Nat's he could see was his date Nat.

-o-

Watching Dean cross and uncross his eyes as he battled his double vision, Natalie wondered if she ought to leave her bike behind at the bar and drive the two of them to her place in Dean's car? That way his chance of getting there safely would improve.. In the end though, Dean insisted he was ok driving, assuring the woman that something he called 'Baby' would look out for him and make sure he remained safe on the journey. _His Sat Nav?_

-o-

Natalie drew to a halt on the road outside one of a number of fairly compact two-story houses. Climbing off the bike, she walked to the bottom of the house drive, and with a hand signal identified it as hers. Dean had driven from the bar with both the front passenger and the driver's window wide open to try to clear the cotton wool from his head and the nausea from his gut, both of which hit him as soon as he stood up to leave with Natalie. He had managed to recognise himself that he probably shouldn't be driving, but no way was he either letting his date drive Baby, or going to leave the car at the bar overnight. Instead, it was a slow and cautious drive as he followed Natalie back to her place. The cold night air had helped and he successfully negotiated turning the big car onto the narrow drive, pulling up in front of a single garage. Due to the narrow width of the drive, Dean was forced to step out directly onto the neat little front lawn. Leaning against the side of his car for support, he took some deep breaths. Seemingly unaffected by the cocktails,. Natalie removed her helmet and strolled over the grass towards him.

-o-

"This' me...For now, anyway. Let's get you inside shall we? You feelin' any better?"

Dean nodded yes, immediately regretting the head movement.

"Some. I'm guessin' you must be used to those things?"

Natalie laughed and, holding Dean by the hand, walked him to her front door.

"Sounded like you're planning on movin' outta this place?"

"Yeah. It's only a rental. I run my own business from home. It's been goin' real well. I can afford to walk in an' buy outright an' I've been needin' somethin' bigger. Somewhere with enough space to convert a room into my office. Right now ev'rythin' takes up nearly all my livin' space...After you, gorgeous."

Natalie flicked the light on as Dean walked over the threshold and a lancing pain flared at the back of Dean's eyes, making him screw them tightly closed. Opening them again slowly, Dean blinked heavily as he glanced around, getting his bearings. He had stepped into a galley style kitchen, long and narrow with a closed door leading off either end. Dean guessed it ran from the front to the back of the house. With plain cream cabinets, the kitchen was clean and tidy looking, but seemed quite bare and utilitarian, like it was very rarely used. There was a _thump_ that sounded like it came from within the next room. Dean missed Natalie's wince before he turned to her.

"You never said you had pets?"

Natalie grinned.

"Yeah, two of 'em. How about I introduce you... _Come on in,_ _boys_."

-o-

The door at the far end of the kitchen opened, and the narrow kitchen suddenly seemed very full, as Ugg and Thugg strolled in. For a couple of seconds Dean stared at the pair in confusion, then his heart sank, and sank further still at the sound of the door to the outside being locked by Natalie behind him. He heard Sam's voice through the fog swirling inside his head, _Your date equals trouble,_ and his lips curled into a small smile. He muttered under his breath "Know-it-all."

-o-

Still distinctly woozy and off kilter, Dean non-the-less managed to flash the two stern-looking thugs a bright and breezy smile while, at the same time trying to spot anything to use as a weapon. Having no joy, his gaze drifted back onto the cold faces of the silent cousins.

"I've been told that really good parties always end up in the kitchen. I think it's true. You two ever noticed that? Or don't you get invites? You both bein' so butt ugly an' all?"

-o-

The Hunter began to move the moment he uttered his last word, stepping to one side and, in spite of the thick head, the queasiness and an odd feeling of detachment, managing a relatively smooth half turn. His right hand instinctively found the gun tucked into the waist band of his denims. With his left he grabbed a piece of Natalie. He hadn't a clue _which_ piece and he didn't care, he made use of it anyway to haul her into his side before encircling her waist with the same arm. His right hand raised the gun and pressed its barrel against the side of her head. Both Jethro and Jonah, who had also begun moving, braked hard, coming to a full stop, suddenly not so sure of themselves or how to play the unfolding situation. Dean fixed his eyes on the pair as best he could, he _really_ wished he hadn't downed four cocktails as if they were nothing more than innocent shakes. Speaking into Natalie's ear, his voice was little more than a rumbling growl.

"Nat, c'mon, be a sensible bitch, please? Order your hounds to stand down, then you and me casually stroll out to my car, an' nobody here gets hurt."

-o-

An internal voice sounded it's warning when, instead of freezing up, Dean felt Natalie's body relax into him, staying loose. The two paused less than the length of a breath before moving again, Dean already recognising he had made an irretrievable mistake. The woman confirmed it when, instead of trying to pull away as Dean had readied himself for, she threw her whole body weight _into_ him. He had expected her to be strong for a woman, but the sheer power that drove him helplessly to the right and on to a forceful collision with the edge of the kitchen counter, the impact to his gut, driving all the wind out of him, shocked Dean. He was left wrapping his arm across his stomach and fighting to take in air. Without hesitation, Natalie reached around him to his gun hand, very precisely hitting a specific pressure point in his wrist. A sensation like severe pins and needles flooded through Dean's hand and digits. The gun dropped from his grip as the muscle tone in his wrist and hand seemed to dissolve away, leaving both completely limp and weak, hijacking all his ability to grasp anything.

-o-

Without pause, Natalie followed up her advantage by driving her knee upwards and into Dean's groin, dead on target. A shocked cry was forced out of the Hunter as his upper body collapsed onto the kitchen work surface and most of the strength drained out of his knees. Only Natalie's hand pressing down firmly in the middle of Dean's spine arrested a boneless slide to the floor. His eyes stung with tears of agony, waves of pain blasted from his groin, up through his gut and into his chest while, at the same time, somebody in the circus of his mind seemed to have trained an elephant to stomp a slow, heavy beat inside his skull. Dean could only moan while swallowing down the rush of hot, burning bile that had instantly flooded up into the back of his throat...He _really_ wanted to puke!

-o-

Grabbing his gun off the counter, Natalie pointed the business end at the back of Dean's head, while still pinning Dean to the kitchen counter using only the pressure of the one hand grinding into his back. Dean wheezed out his fury towards the woman, his voice strained by the sharp lightening bolts of pain still flaring in his lower abdomen.

"You horse faced...old crow...I'm gonna...wring...your saggin' neck...you one cent, disease riddled _whore._ "

Natalie crushed the heel of her hand down harder into Dean's spine.

"Aww, Deanie. I know you don't really mean what you just said about me. I was there when you were eyein' me up the first time you saw me. I could see it all over that handsome face of yours my sweet honey pie...You thought I looked fuckin' _hot_! _"_

Dean spoke through gritted teeth.

"Wrong, fat ass...I thought you looked fuckin' _easy_!...I always feel sorry...for desperate lookin' women...Figured I could do you the...favour of a one off screw, provided I...kept my eyes shut."

The woman's response was bitter and brief.

" _Bastard_."

-o-

Natalie threw a nod to the two cousins and they stepped up enthusiastically, keen to take over. One laid a meaty hand across the back of Dean's neck, his fingers and thumb squeezing painfully on either side of Dean's windpipe, while the other used his hip and thigh pressed up against the back of Dean's legs and his rear to wedge Dean's lower half securely against the cupboard doors beneath the work surface. Keeping hold of the gun, Natalie stepped away from Dean and began smoothing her hair back into place with her free hand.

"Seems this one could've done with a higher dose in his drink. Still, it's a point in his favour, good constitution. Right boys, take this dick to the garage an' wear him down some, don't want his blood on my nice clean kitchen surfaces...And boys? Before you rush off? I'll expect _nothin'_ broken on him, an' you _absolutely_ will avoid markin' that dumb face. Understand? _This_ one's an earner my dears. I'm expectin' there'll be a fight over him an' I promise the two of you right now, I'll eat my own _thong_ if he don't get picked up specifically for the sex trade. We'll show him off naked, an' hope it ain't too cold on the day...Go on then my pets, enjoy playin' with him, just remember, don't chew on your new squeaky toy _too_ much. Either of you tear out his squeaker? An' I'll tear you _both_ a new one! Take that as my solemn promise."

-o-

Jethro and Jonah quickly dragged their smirking captive to the front door. After a hurried check to make sure no-one was around to see them,, they swiftly half walked, half dragged Dean outside and to the garage, hurriedly opening one of it's double doors, and disappearing inside with him.

-oOo-  
Till next time,  
Chick xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4  
** -oOo-

Wandering out of the kitchen into her cluttered lounge, Natalie crossed straight away to a large mirror hung over the fireplace. Tilting her head this way and that, she stared at her reflection, as the small flare of uncertainty came to life. The more she looked at herself, the deeper her frown became, despite attempting to reassure herself that Dean had said what he did out of his hurt and his anger. Even then, the memory of his words irritated and gnawed at her. Shrugging off her jacket she gazed around, seeking out the half full bottle of Jack Daniel's she knew she had left lying around there somewhere.

-o-

Sam's head jerked up with a start and he took a deep breath, annoyed at himself.

" _Dammitt_!"

He hadn't intended to fall asleep in the armchair while he waited for Dean to get back. He leaned over to retrieve the book he had been reading which had slipped from his knee to the floor. With no real idea of how long he had slept for, Sam peered at his watch.

" _Holy crap_!"

Unless his watch was wrong, it was now close on half two in the morning.. Hurriedly getting to his feet, Sam automatically headed first for the kitchen.

"Dean? You in here?"

At the kitchen doorway, Sam scanned the room. Everything looked exactly as he had left it. Noticing that the coffee machine was still switched on, he gratefully headed over to it. Having been left standing, the liquid in it now looked thick and almost black. As well as there obviously being no fresh coffee made, there was also no sign of any having been poured out of the coffee pot since Sam's last top up. Filling his mug, Sam quickly swallowed the hot, thick brew, grimacing at the aftertaste. Yup, that had definitely been stood since he made it. Sam frowned, but told himself that maybe his brother hadn't wanted coffee when he got back; maybe he had, instead, headed straight to bed? Leaving him sound asleep in a chair? It sounded highly doubtful that was what had happened and Sam knew it. Even so, he headed quickly to Dean's room. Needing to know for certain.

-o-

The light from the hallway showed Sam what he was already expecting. There was no Dean in Dean's room. Sam didn't bother searching further. All it would take was for him to take a look outside, at the empty spot where the Impala should be, to confirm his brother hadn't returned. Only, he had no real need to do that. Each of his now heightened senses screamed to him that he was alone in the bunker. Out of sheer frustration, Sam drove a hard punch into the open door of his older brother's room. Spinning around, he angrily strode back to the chair he had woken in, and where he had left his phone, never noticing the lengthy split in the door that his fist had caused. The same thought kept revolving around in his head. _Why doesn't Dean ever listen?_ His internalised question led to an externalised rant.

"I mean...I _told_ him this bitch was trouble. Didn't I? What _is_ it with him? Does he honestly think I live for the times when I gotta go rescue his useless jerk ass? Where's my damn phone? 'Cos _sure_ , nothin' _else_ I'd rather do, nooo. Uh huh. Not me bro'... _Ah_! There you are!...Right...You had _so_ better answer this, you bastard."

After a few rings, Dean's voice mail message kicked in, and Sam considered whether the judicial cost of fratricide would actually be a price worth paying?

-o-

Jonah closed the garage door and flicked the light switch. A single bare bulb threw a dull, yellow light around the largely empty space, not quite reaching the corners. Dean automatically wrinkled his nose and screwed his face up at the smell of ammonia and blood that hung in the air.

" _Phew_. This place needs a scrub down. S'better than some motels I've stayed in though. I remember this one time...

A shove to his back from Jethro had Dean stumbling forward towards the centre of the concrete floored space. Jonah looked at him coldly.

"We wanna hear you squawk, not talk."

Jethro grinned at his cousin.

"Hey, good one!"

Dean rolled his eyes as the cousins high fived one another. He recalled Natalie saying Jonah wrote poetry, she'd oversold it.

"Hey, if you thought _that_ was good, how about this?...That was sad an' pathetic. It was crap an' really tragic. You're so seriously _not_ poetic...Well? What d'you think Ugg...Or are you Thugg? Never quite sure, like I said, you're _both_ pretty damn ugly."

Moving to stand alongside Dean, Jonah looked to Jethro and inclined his head towards the back of the garage.

"Bring the toy box over here. Don' wanna keep the poetry critic waitin' do we? Let's play."

-o-

Once again, Jonah wrapped a hand around the back of Dean's neck, this time forcing Dean's head down.

"D'yer see them marks on the floor, runt?"

Dean could pick out random dark patches, smears and splash marks showing against the area of concrete floor that Jonah's hold allowed him to see. It was clear to Dean that he wasn't the first to be brought in here by his two new friends.

"That lot's been donated by all the other guys, some just like you, startin' out thinkin' they're tough, gotta clever mouth on 'em, an' can't help flappin' their lips. You're gonna be addin' your own pretty patterns real soon. What d'yer say now? Still feelin' like bein' funny? _Looser_!"

Dean's stomach knotted and he couldn't stop himself from flinching at the sound of Jethro letting something heavy hit the floor to his right. Jonah felt his flinch and smiled, satisfied.

"Not so chatty now, are we? Open it up Jethro, let the douche see our toys ... Here, be sure an' have a good look, scum; 'cos you're the one gonna choose what me an' my cousin get to play with first ... Well? What's it gonna be, hero? Make it fast, or Jethro here will decide."

-o-

Jethro had lifted back the lid of a large, old looking, wooden trunk. The sort always depicted as containing pirate treasure. Dean's gaze swept over the contents that were visible to him, mentally cataloguing wooden baseball bats, a leather whip, hand held blow torch, power drill, at least two different but equally lethal looking knives, knuckle dusters, a length of rubber tubing that he really _didn't_ want to get acquainted with, a hammer, and a large metal wood plane. There were other items hidden underneath those things he could clearly see, but he had no real urge to know what else was available to the loony tune twins, neither was he about to pick anything foir them to use on him. Still not feeling anything like a hundred percent thanks to Natalie spiking his final cocktail, combined with her treatment of little Dean, he knew his chances of escape were slim to zero; but he'd never been the kind to go down without a fight. Neither of the two knuckleheads had bothered locking the garage doors once they were inside and, just beyond those doors, Baby was sat waiting for him. Relaxing his muscles, Dean readied himself to move, mentally counting himself down from three.

-o-

Dean actually felt quite pleased with himself. He thought he'd done well to get as far as touching the handle on one of the double doors. And Jethro's high pitched howl of pain in response to him having applied the relatively small amount of strength and force necessary to partially tear off the guy's ear had been thoroughly satisfying. As ever though, there was a price to pay for his brief moment of triumph, and Jethro had ploughed an elbow into Dean's gut, driving the Hunter to the ground, and followed up by dropping down himself down on top of Dean, pinning him then pounding his sledge hammer of a fist into the hunter's ribs. A second strike in the same area, and Dean was forced to stop struggling and instead concentrate on trying to protect his ribs from further attacks. Now, held firmly in place by Jonah who stood behind Dean, wrenching both his arms back, he glared at Jethro, bleeding from his newly inflicted wound, stalking towards him, swinging a baseball bat experimentally. Dean told himself his escape attempt was worth the penalty, steadied his increasing worry by telling himself there was a limit to the amount of damage they could, assuming they followed Natalie's orders. Grunting, Jethro made his first swing.

-o-

His chin on his chest, Jethro now at his back holding him up while Jonah rummaged around in the 'toy box', it occurred to Dean that maybe the pair had forgotten about their orders, and maybe he should remind them? He tried not to dwell on the idea that maybe they were deliberately ignoring Natalie's commands.

-o-

"Dean? _Dean_!...C'mon handsome, wake up. Time to move you into your temporary accommodation."

The soft female voice made it's way through the heat and the dark, weaving itself into Dean's dream. He was sitting on the deck of a boat, enjoying the touch of the hot sun, fishing rod in hand. His line was idly drifting on the surface of a calm sea, no bait on the hook, no weights on the line to carry it down into the green depths. Much less chance of hooking a fish this way, no sudden urgency to move, nothing to shatter the peace and tranquillity...Nothing except some irritating woman's irritating voice.

-o-

Natalie stared down at the prone man. Other than a slight frown, Dean remained unresponsive. She briefly considered a hard hit across the face but held off, he carried enough visible signs of his time in the hands of the chaos cousins. At her first sight of the treatment doled out to the man back at the garage, she'd struggled not to give into her instant gut reaction and simply kill the morons where they stood. She needed a star and this guy's looks meant he had fit the bill. Now that depended on how he cleaned up. She'd had to make do with giving the cousins a tongue lashing for now, as she still needed the two outsized baggage handlers with her to cover any heavy lifting, and to take care of the more unsavoury tasks. Both had claimed the cuts and bruises happened when the man made a break for it, but Natalie was nowhere near that stupid.

-o-

Dean had been transported to their present location in the back of the cousins' van, while Natalie had driven the unconscious man's cranky old bucket of an Impala. The car had stalled at just about every set of lights and, when it _was_ running, it chugged along coughing and choking like an old man. Until she drove it, Natalie had considered changing the plates, investing in forged paperwork and keeping the big, good looking car. After the nightmare of driving it however, she had earmarked the useless piece of junk for the nearest scrap yard.

"Jonah...Thanks to the both of you jerks, he's still out, so you'll have to carry him in. Jethro, you bring the supplies. I'll go open up."

Standing holding the van door open while Natalie climbed out, Jonah glanced inside at the figure laid on a rough blanket and nodded.

"Will do, no problem...Um, Boss?"

" _What_?"

"You've remembered it's not my turn to clear out..?"

Natalie half heartedly patted the man on his back, a purely physical action with no affection behind it.

"I know. The job's Jethro's for this week."

Jethro, one muscular arm wrapped around an open cardboard box containing a number of none too fresh looking sandwiches and small bottles of water, looked momentarily confused.

" _What's_ my...? Oh... _Crap_!"

Natalie turned to Jethro, her anger towards him still simmering in her eyes.

"Exactly. The crap's all yours. Look at it this way though; at least you're still _around_ to shovel shit; be grateful for it!"

-o-

This was Sam's fifth attempt to contact his brother and, yet again, Dean's voicemail was his only response. He had already left one curt message just saying 'Ring me'. This time he was leaving a much longer message.

"Ok, um, look, if I'm talkin' to somebody who's happened to find this phone somewhere? The owner's missin', an' it would help me find him if you'd _please,_ either call me back, or just send a text to my number to let me know _where_ you found it. That's all I'm askin', thanks. ... _This_ message is for anyone who's listenin' 'cos you've pulled the _dumbest_ trick of your life an' taken or hurt my brother. Now's the time to start regrettin' it 'cos I _promise_ you. I _am_ gonna hunt you down...An' believe me, whoever, wherever you are; you'd be very, _very_ wrong to think I won't."

Ending the call Sam glanced at his watch, estimating there was still roughly two to three hours till daylight. While he had no option but to wait for the bar his brother was meeting his date in to open up before he could question people, he needed to feel he was doing _something_ constructive right now. Going to his room, Sam set about packing his rucksack, gearing himself up for a hunt.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5  
** -oOo-

The site that the trio transported Dean to had once belonged to a storage and packaging firm. Since the firm's closure, nature had been at work and now much of the compound was well on the way to being fully reclaimed by plant life. There was a brick building that looked like it had once been a small office block, moss covered patches of the red brick walls and from ground level, long grasses and a couple of scrappy shrubs could be seen growing out from the guttering. Most of the pointing had crumbled out from between the bricks and there wasn't a window that still had unbroken glass set into it. Gaps in the roof explained the remnants of shattered roofing tiles littering the ground around the building, and what had once been the entrance door was now living an independent life on the compound floor nearby. The level of dilapidation effecting what could be seen of the internal structure through the glassless windows and the gap that had once been the entrance, told of a business that had been abandoned and neglected for some years. A large weathered and faded signboard indicated that the place had been up for sale at some point. Clearly though, there had been no takers.

-o-

Standing apart from the offices were two large shed like buildings constructed of corrugated metal walls and flat metal roofs. The paintwork to the external walls had long since faded and peeled, leaving very little still clinging on, defiant in the face of certain annihilation by the ever spreading rust. Neither building was blessed with windows, just a set of double metal doors set into the front of each rectangular shaped unit. The doors into one of the units sported a hefty looking padlock that was clearly much newer than the shed itself. Natalie headed towards it.

-o-

Jonah followed on behind the female, carrying Dean slung casually over one broad shoulder, fire-fighter style. Drawing to a halt behind Natalie as they reached the padlocked unit, he came close to dropping the Hunter when the pocket of Dean's jacket unexpectedly began to vibrate right alongside Jonah's ear, startling him.

" _Whathefu.._? _Whassat_?"

Guessing what the problem was, Natalie sneered at Jonah's surprise while she reached up into the jacket pocket that Jonah was attempting to keep his head well away from, without losing his grip on Dean.

"Calm down you idiot! Look. It's just his phone signalling there's a message...Somebody must've tried callin' him while he was in the back of the van. Course, if either of you had a brain cell to call your own, his phone wouldn't have been in his pocket still, _would_ it? You an' that equally moronic cousin of yours don't know how lucky you are Dean was still out, _believe_ me!...Let's see, who's tried calling lover boy this late?"

Checking, she saw there were five missed calls all from the same name and number, and two voicemail messages waiting.

"Hmmm. _Sam_. Could be either male _or_ female. What about it Jonah? Think our boy here is the kind would cheat on his girl?"

Jonah answered quickly, relieved at anything that distracted Natalie from why Dean's phone was still on him.

"Yeah ma'am. I definitely reckon he is!"

"Let's find out, shall we?"

-o-

Listening to the first, curt, message, Natalie winked at Jonah.

"Not some besotted girlfriend then. Seems Sam's male, an' he sounds pissed off...Dean mentioned he lived with his broth... _Oh._ Hang on! Wait!...No...No... _Shit_! _Can't_ be!...That would be...No, no _way_!"

Something had certainly managed to put a smile back on Natalie's face, Jonah was curious to find out what.

"Boss? _What's_ 'no no way'?"

-o-

Natalie impatiently waved the heavily muscled man into silence as if she were swatting at a fly, while she listened intently to the second voice mail, in particular the section in which the content of the caller's message became threatening. Her smile broadened, rapidly turning into a Cheshire cat grin. When Jethro caught up with her and his cousin, Natalie was gleefully laughing out loud and hugging Dean's phone to her chest. Jethro stood, uncertain what was happening and loaded down with the box of sandwiches still under his arm, that had been joined by a mop bucket filled with cleaning products hung from his fingers and swinging below the box. The actual mop was gripped by it's stave angled under the armpit of his other arm and held in that hand was an open gym bag holding further cleaning tools and products. He shot his cousin a baffled look, hoping he would know what was so funny. Jonah, however, shrugged his shoulders, indicating he was none the wiser. Jethro took a chance and interrupted Natalie's happy laughter.

"Um, boss?...Boss?...Mind openin' up the place? Carrying this lot's kinda awkward...Boss?"

-o-

Wiping at her tear filled eyes, Natalie calmed her laughter.

"Oh. Sure honey, sorry."

Pocketing Dean's phone and still beaming, Natalie unfastened the padlock and held open one of the double doors while cheerily waving the bemused cousins inside. Following on, she pulled the door too before hitting the light switch. The light flickering on coincided with a moan coming from behind Jonah. The sound was closely followed by a sudden sneeze, then a strained groan, which led into a brief period of low muttering before a couple of seconds silence. Finally, a pained and outraged voice spoke up.

"Oh _man_! _Ghaagh_! Did you fart? _Lemmedown_ stink butt!...Wanna puke!"

-o-

For such a big man, Jonah managed to move quite swiftly, roughly depositing his load onto the greasy, grime encrusted, ripped vinyl that was doing it's best to cover the floor. Cursing, Dean slowly rolled himself onto his side, one arm splinting his ribs. Willing his stomach to settle, he inhaled carefully through his mouth, forehead resting on the filthy flooring. Turning his head slightly to one side, he gazed quietly at a cockroach that meandered past, a few inches from the end of his nose.

" _Definitely_ not the Hilton then."

Amusement shining in her eyes, Natalie gave Jonah a short nod, and Dean found himself heading rapidly upright courtesy of one of Jonah's meaty hands gripping him tightly under each armpit and hauling him onto his feet. Eyes closed and head bowed, Dean winced as he tried again to control his breathing while waiting for the dizziness, the sudden change in altitude, and the fusty smell of wherever he was, to pass. A woman's hand under his chin tilted his head up. Natalie inspected her captive's face closely, noting that, in-between the blood and bruising left behind by the cousins, he was decidedly pale. Seeing again how her orders had been ignored by the two thugs, Natalie now vowed to herself that she _was_ going to make them pay, and pay dearly, for their insubordination; just as soon as it was practical. She realised her prize now had his eyes open and he was watching her steadily. She took a step back.

-o-

"Hello again. Welcome back. I've got a question for you lover but first, let me apologise for your handling by these two, um, _gentlemen,_ who believe I don't know that they wilfully disobeyed my very precise instructions regarding what _not_ to do to you...Still, all that's in the past."

The cousins shared a relieved glance.

"Now to my question. You see, handsome, it's my belief you've been keeping something rather important from me, you bad man!"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Get to the point will you, sister. I've gotta headache."

"Fine. Your name...Would that be Dean _Winchester_ by any chance?"

Through the tenderness and hurts that had been making themselves known to Dean, he felt Jonah's grip on his arms instantly tighten when Natalie said his name, while Jethro's eyes widened and he stared with renewed interest at Dean. Dean kept his own silent focus strictly on Natalie, green eyes spearing her with ice. Throwing her head back, Natalie began to giggle and clap her hands together excitedly like a little schoolgirl, much to Dean's irritation.

"What's it matter to you, skank?"

In answer, Natalie's eyes flashed black. Dean continued to gaze steadily at her.

"Dissappointin'. Nothin' but dumb ass daemons. Still, least that makes you an easy kill."

-o-

Expecting a slap across the face, the knuckle of Natalie's forefinger being dug firmly into his sternum came as a surprise, Dean gasped at the intensity of hurt the small move caused. Natalie shoved her snarling face to him up close.

"Seein' it's not _us_ that's been drugged, taken an' beat up, _who's_ the dumb ass _Winchester_?"

Refusing to back down, Dean's voice became a low growl.

"Still _you_ jerkoffs, _babe_. If you know me, you'll know there's more than one Winchester."

Pulling Dean's phone from her pocket, the daemon laughingly waved it in front of Dean.

"Three guesses who it was gave you away, Hunter scum?"

Not surprised Sam had got worried and been leaving messages, Dean simply smirked.

"Thanks for the intel. You might'a got me, shit-for-brains, but Sam's still out there, an' by now he's _already_ huntin' you down...How's it feel? Knowin' your time's runnin' out?"

-o-

Jethro and Jonah glanced at one another, Dean's words touching a nerve. Catching their shared look, Natalie saw she could potentially lose her control over both them and the situation if she didn't re-assert herself and shut this asswipe up.

"How about you tell _me_? How did _you_ feel? Y'know, when your year was almost up?...Gotta say Deanie, I'm disappointed. You're not living up to all the hype so far, if all you can threaten me with is your baby brother. Honestly? I've no problem with sweet little brother finding us. If he somehow does? I'll make certain you get the best seat in the house while you watch him die. So maybe you should start prayin' he _don't_ find you?"

The female daemon enjoyed seeing glee on the cousins' faces, as they both enjoyed the sight of the barely contained rage both in Dean's stance, and in his eyes.

"Jonah? Bring our latest acquisition through. The plan stays the same."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6  
** -oOo-

Lifting back the counter top, Natalie went first and unlocked the inner door, pushing it open. Dean instantly screwed his face up and turned his head away from the doorway at the strength of the new foul stink that rushed out to greet them. Jethro cupped a hand over his nose and mouth, looking very much less than happy. Jonah's reaction was more vocal.

" _Fuck_! Whichever one of 'em that's comin' from, he _really_ ain't healthy!"

Frowning, Natalie stared into the darkened space that lie behind the door.

"Jethro. Find out which one it is and see to them first. _Jeeze,_ we need some air freshener in this place!"

Unable to stop himself, Dean burst into laughter, and instantly tried to stifle it again to curtail the impact on his battered body.

" _Ohhh_! My ribs! _Ow_. That's _too_ funny! _Ouch_! An' _rich_ ; comin' from a slut who's own smoke trail stinks like _rotten eggs_!"

A hard shove from Jonah sent Dean stumbling through the inner doorway and into the dark space with a grunt. Somebody switched the lights on, and Dean gazed around; horrified by the sight that greeted him.

-o-

Sam looked at the picture of his brother he had pulled up on his phone and smiled. In the picture Dean was fast asleep in the passenger seat of the Impala, head back, mouth hung open slackly, sun glistening off the string of drool that had journeyed from the corner of his mouth, to the hinge of his jaw and ending in mid-air, not yet having made it as far as Dean's neck when the picture was taken. Sam hadn't shown Dean the photo, saving it for a special occasion and this, starting the search for his missing brother, wasn't it. Luckily Sam had other pictures of Dean to show to people who might have been around to notice him and his date. Satisfied, Sam opened up his laptop and went to Google Earth. Although he had invested in an I-pad for it's portability, he still chose to work on the laptop when he was at the bunker, preferring the larger screen if he was going to be working for any length of time, and finding it a whole lot easier when he wanted to show things to Dean. There was also the fact that, sitting down somewhere and opening up the laptop still gave Sam a sense of purpose. Lifting it's lid had become almost ceremonial, a signal heralding the start of some serious research. Also, Dean preferred it to having to squint at porn on the smaller I-pad screen.

-o-

Homing in on the image of the bar that Dean had gone to, Sam began searching the area within ten miles of it's location, then extended his search to twenty miles out, followed by thirty, taking note of any buildings and features that could potentially act as a suitable place to hold a Hunter, assuming Dean _was_ being held somewhere, rather than having simply been killed and his body disposed of. Sam quickly pushed that thought out of his mind. As always, he was certain that he would somehow know, would sense it in some way, if his brother was already dead.

-o-

Armed with that certainty, Sam wrote down any potential locations and their distance from the bar in a pocket sized black covered flip pad. Much as he loved tech and gadgetry, he couldn't seriously envisaged himself ever fully embracing the paper free life. Despite Sam's current task, he couldn't help smiling again at the recollection of Dean's straight faced and indignant comment on the subject. _Paper free? Never gonna work dude. I mean, come on...What're you supposed to wipe your ass on? An' no way you gonna convince me there'll be an app for that!"_

-o-

Sam unconsciously rolled his eyes; remembering his older brother's glee at having caused Sam a split second of uncertainty, before the realisation hit that Dean was messing with him. Sam's smile gradually dissipated. At the time, Dean had found Sam's reaction hilarious, and he had awarded himself an imaginary point for having been the cause of it. Whereas Sam recalled how he instantly, in his own mind, had berated himself, and how guilty he had felt back then for wondering, however briefly, whether his big brother was that lacking in intelligence.

-o-

Sam sighed. To him, the memory was yet another one of those incidents that highlighted the abiding difference between them both. He knew that one of his own failings was that he suffered a frequent tendency to get bogged down by too much soul searching. Dean though, didn't seem to do nearly enough. Sam rotated his shoulders, easing away some of the tension there and, pushing the thoughts about his brother to one side, he turned his attention back to the satellite image on his screen. He determinedly refused to let the sight of so many acres of heavily planted woodland within his allocated search area dishearten him.

-o-

Appalled, Dean's gaze travelled along the line of what appeared to be extra large dog cages running centrally down the length of what Dean guessed was the inside of a tall and spacious rectangular metal shed or container. A silent, rapid count up indicated twenty cages in the line, all neatly arranged with a two foot gap left between each cage and it's neighbour. Locked up inside almost every one of them was a male figure. All the men were either lying on their backs with their knees drawn up, or sat slouching against a side of their cage, again with their knees drawn up in the confined space.

-o-

Dean's attention fixed on the one exception. The occupant of the fourth cage laid curled up tightly on his side, facing the direction of Dean and the three daemons. The man kept his eyes closed against the light, his hair was plastered to his head with sweat and, in the white light cast by the two working bare bulbs hanging down from the ceiling, his skin looked decidedly yellow. He had both arms wrapped around himself, clutching his stomach, and he was moaning plaintively. His moans suddenly and swiftly changed into heaving, gurgling sounds and, without altering his position in any way, the man began violently coughing and choking while belching out a quantity of slimy yellow green bile that burbled and slid out of the side of his lax mouth, slithering and glooping along the man's jaw line, before splattering onto the floor of his cage. When he finished puking up the vile gunk, the guy made no attempts to separate himself from the thick shoe laces of bile still stretching from his bottom lip to the floor, nor did he react in any way when his stomach emitted a loud growling, churning sound, a sound that was immediately followed by the powerful stench emanating from the fresh offering of a quantity of watery faeces soaking though his already fouled and sodden pants. Dean felt pity for the guy. The man needed urgent medical care, but at the hands of the trio of daemons, that wasn't the kind of care he was likely to receive.

" _Hey_ _you_...Queen Cretin! That guy in four needs help. Hell, scratch that! What he _needs_ is fuckin' hospital, an' _we_ all need a gallon of air freshener. He's been like this for hours. If he don't at least get a bucket load'a fluid, he's probably gonna die... _You_ hearin' me? You _goddamn crazy freak!"_

-o-

Dean turned to consider the occupant sat uncomfortably in the second cage along, a well muscled African American male who Dean guessed to be in his early forties and who clearly wasn't afraid to speak out or throw insults at the female daemon. He watched with interest as Natalie strolled towards the man's cage, a sneer plastered on her wide lips, until a solid dig lit a blazing fire in Dean's side, making him flinch noticeably and catch his breath, redirecting his focus down to the gun now held against his ribs. Jonah hissed in his ear.

"You ain't here to make pals, hunter. Start walkin'."

-o-

Whatever was going on here, seeing the caged men convinced Dean that Jonah wasn't about to shoot him and he stayed motionless, glaring at the daemon defiantly. Jonah half smiled and, after a quick glance over to where Natalie stood with her back turned towards them, he focused on Dean again. The daemon's smile broadened when he rammed the barrel of his gun into Dean's ribs, at the same time twisting it as though turning a stubborn key, effectively drilling the barrel forcefully into the cartilage between two of Dean's lower ribs. Jonah was well practiced at the move and his free hand was already there, catching and supporting the Hunter when his upper body jerked forward and his knees gave way. There was nothing the daemon could do, however, to stop the sound of Deans wordless shout of agony. Natalie spun around, to see Jonah looking baffled. He shook his head in her direction.

"Dunno boss. Runt yelped when I told him to start walking...S'ppose I might 'a stood on his toe? Didn't feel nothin' though."

Natalie rolled her eyes.

"Just get him caged will you?"

-o-

Natalie looked down on the man in cage two.

"I hear you well enough, you dick. An' I'm not appreciatin' the attitude. Jethro? Short rations for this one today. An' you...If you speak to me again without first bein' spoken to? You'll be gettin' a nice, long cold shower. You hearin' _me,_ ass-hole"

Number two didn't answer, instead he was running an appraising eye over the passing Hunter.

-o-

Passing down the line of cages, most of the occupants watched in resignation when Dean walked by. Three men showed no interest at all, keeping their heads bowed and their eyes lowered. In cage number twelve the long haired occupant sat cross legged and slouched with his back against one side of his cage. He was staring off, unblinking, at something far in the distance that only he could see, and rhythmically thumping the back of his head against the cages metal bars. He seemed to be completely unaware of any activity around him.

"Hope you heard what the Boss Lady told the big mouth in number two Hunter? That was lesson one. No speakin' without permission. Lesson two is no whinin' 'bout the food, we'll assume you don' want any. An' three. Try pullin' any dumb stunts? It's gonna hurt...In fact, pretty much do _anythin'_ me an' Jethro don't like? You'll pay for it."

Jonah lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Course, I'd be real _happy_ for you to try somethin', anytime you like, Winchester."

Ignoring Jonah's last comment, Dean glanced back at him, appearing surprised.

" _Boss Lady_? Oh, you mean _she's_ in charge? Right, I get it now, you an' your cousin are just her gofer's; or are you part of her collection as well? "

Jonah scowled.

"As it happens, we're _business_ partners, an' this ain't nobody's _collection_ shit-for-brains. You're nothin' but stock now Hunter, goin' on sale to the highest bidder. An' now we got us a _Winchester_ on offer, it's a solid gold guarantee those high bids're gonna come rollin' on in. You're gonna make sure it's the high life for me an' my cousin. Big house, big parties, big name human whores, big time kills just for fun. Suck on _that_ Winchester."

-o-

Dean answered on autopilot while he digested Jonah's words.

"Yeah well, unlike you an' your _boss_ , we Winchester's ain't cheap trash...You seriously think she's gonna let you see one cent of...

The floor and the Hunter became closely acquainted when the side of Jonah's gun impacted solidly with the back of Dean's head, dropping him to his knees and causing his vision to blur. Giving him no time to untangle his senses, Jonah grabbed a fistful of jacket collar and towed Dean backwards to the first available empty cage, half throwing, half kicking him into the confined space. Slamming the front opening door of the cage closed, he glared murderously at the dazed Hunter while securing the door with a large, heavy padlock. Squinting up at the muscle-bound daemon, Dean feigned innocence.

"Wha'd I say?"

-o-

With a growl, Jonah turned his back and stomped away, leaving Dean slowly drawing up his knees before, with a weary moan, he let his upper body flop back to the cage floor, finally beginning to release himself from the mental strain it took to force himself to over-ride the effects of pain and injuries in order that he could continue to function, to whatever degree. One hand shading his eyes from the suddenly too bright lights, Dean muttered to himself under his breath,

"Me an' my big mouth."

He closed his eyes against the tide of hurt he was now becoming keenly aware of, relying on his hearing to stay alert to the activity around him.

-o-

Successfully hitching a ride was a game of patience which involved making yourself both noticeable and, at the same time, look harmless. Sam's height took care of noticeable, harmless came with a relaxed stance, the assumptions him carrying a back pack created and an open, friendly smile. It was not, as Dean insisted, anything to do with his hair fooling male driver's into thinking they were picking up a girl! At this early hour in the morning, Sam knew there would be plenty of truckers on the road getting the miles under their wheels before the nine to five commute began, it shouldn't be too long before someone pulled up for him. He had positioned himself on the main route into the local town. Once there, he planned to find himself a suitable form of transport to "borrow", then drive to a diner he had spotted on Google Earth that was only a couple of miles from the biker's bar. He could spend time there until the bar itself was due to open up for the day. He wanted to talk to the bar staff as soon as he could.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	7. Chapter 7

_Decided to re-rate this fic down to "T" as it's not_  
 _turning out as 'naughty' as I thought it might. :)  
_ **Chapter 7  
** -oOo-

The female daemon shook her head as she stared through the cage bars at the delirious man inside and considered what her options might be. She didn't need to think for long. The human clearly needed far more than she was prepared to give. She'd started this business to make money, not waste it.

"Ain't nobody gonna buy this lump o' rotted meat. Hell, we'd likely have t'a pay to get it off our hands! No point wastin' effort on it... _Jethro_ , get this outta there an' get rid. An'do it right! I don't wanna see any raw pieces of it left lyin' around. You make certain it _all_ catches this time.

" _Hey_! Bitch lady. He's a _somebody_ , not an _it_. And you can't just end him. You _can't_! It's murder!... _Listen to me! I'm talking to_ _ **you**_ _, you_ _ **scrawny assed, disease riddled old slapper!**_ _"_

 _-o-_

Natalie gave no sign of having heard the voice of shock, outrage and disbelief coming from the second cage.

"You'll need to get some bleach in there to tackle the stains, an' I want both the cage an' the floor round it hosed down real good. I don't want nothin' passin' onto the next piece of merchandise to use it. Get Jonah to give you a hand to clean it out if you need to."

Jethro grimaced at the thought of having to handle the man, coated as the guy was, in his own faeces and vomit, but he wasn't about to openly refuse Natalie's orders. Jethro knew he was already on thin ice with her. He cast around for something to protect himself from the bodily fluids, his eyes falling on a pile of worn and threadbare, but clean, woollen blankets on the floor, there to be used by the occupants of the cages.

"Sure boss."

-o-

While Natalie watched, Jethro grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around his waist. With not enough spare to knot it in place, he tucked the top edge down the waistband of his denims and, his lips curled in disgust, he approached cage number four and undid the padlock. The man who had been laid silent and unmoving, seemed to recognise something was happening and, with a fear filled whining, he moved his limbs weakly, attempting to shuffle backwards, away from the front of the cage. Not saying a word to the man, Jethro reached inside the cage with one thick, muscular arm. Grabbing one of the man's shoulders, he forcibly dragged the increasingly distressed man out from the cage. Leaving him lying on the floor, Jethro went to grab another blanket, returning to see the man had begun trying to scramble back into the cage.

-o-

The guy in number two began shaking the bars of his cage and straining to either push or pull at them, trying to loosen them, desperate to break free, to do something to try to help the other man, to stop outright murder. Dean admired number two for trying, whatever the risk to himself. With a sigh, the Hunter opened his eyes and gritted his teeth while he adjusted his position, trying get a line of sight down the row of cages. Number two was still yanking at the bars keeping him imprisoned in fury and frustration, continuing to yell at Natalie as, finally acknowledging him, she strolled in his direction. No-one else joined in the man's protests.

"What kinda cold hearted stinking slab of _toilet scum_ _are_ you, bitch? Look at me... _Look at me_! ...I...What the **_fuck_** _..._?"

" _Awe_...What's the matter now honey? I thought you _wanted_ my attention?"

Natalie had wandered over and squatted herself down in front of cage two, fluttering her eyelashes theatrically. The inhabitant of the cage reacted by suddenly jerking back, away from the bars, staring in shock and fear at the sight of Natalie's dead, black eyes.

"Wh...What in Holy Hell _are_ you?"

-o-

Natalie laughed in sheer delight before casually waving one hand, sending the well built man crashing against the bars that formed the back of his cage, an invisible force pinning him there painfully. An increasing pressure against his chest made it hard for him to breathe. Natalie's voice turned to warm liquid honey and she gave him a sly wink. _Behind her, watched only by those few men who's inner fears didn't make them turn away, Jethro walked past, the unhealthy man swaddled in a blanket and slung over Jethro's wide shoulder, his head bouncing loosely against Jethro's back each time the big daemon's heels met the floor. The occupant of cage 12 continued to bang his head against his cage bars, but his lips now moved as he began whispering to himself, so quietly that no-one heard._

"Well now baby. I can tell you for _certain_ ; there's absolutely _nothing_ Holy about _Hell_!"

Her cold laughter as she walked away sent a chilled shiver fleeing down the man's spine, as the pressure against his chest lifted. He remained sat for a while, motionless, and stunned into silence. _Jethro carried his load out of the storage space and let the door swing closed again behind him, cutting off the sight of him and his burden from the rest of the captive men. Number 12 stopped his whispering._

-o-

The door to Dean's cage opened a fraction and Jonah threw something to the floor next to him.

"Food. Don' like, don' eat, really don' care."

Something else, heavier this time, bounced off Dean's thigh with a sloshing sound.

"Make that last. No more till tonight... _If_ we bother comin' back later. Oh, nearly forgot. Bathroom facilities. Stand up jobs, I'd aim as far as you can. If it's a sit down you need? No problem, seen as you're already sat. Catch my drift Hunter?"

Dean's gaze went to the small plastic bottle of water and the fairly unappetising looking gas station pre-packed sandwich, labelled 'Reduced', before he looked calmly up at the daemon.

"Tell me what's gonna happen to number four."

-o-

Jonah smiled unpleasantly, savouring what he was about to tell the Hunter, knowing that he would rock the Hunter's outer calm. He squatted down in front of Dean's cage.

"Well now. The lady likes the place kept clean an' smellin' sweet. She ain't happy seein' things left untidy. Number four's gone out with the rest of the trash...An' he'll burn with it... Hey, don' you worry 'bout him though Hunter. Guy's weak, won' take him too long to die once them flames get a hold."

Sickened to his stomach, Dean narrowed his eyes and glared with hatred at the grinning daemon. He had seen and heard enough. Quickly Dean started murmuring soft, indistinct words to himself, watching in satisfaction as Jonah's stance stiffened. With a snarl, Jonah scrabbled to his feet. Moving quickly, he reached inside his coat

-o-

Dean's words stuttered to a stop at the nauseating kick of the cattle prod in the big daemon's hand. He gritted his teeth against a second jolt of electricity.

"You puke faced piece of _filth!_ You _fuck_! But guess what, shit-for-brains? That pathetic exorcism's wasted on _me_. _I_ ain't possessin' anyone! You don't get to drive me outta my own body, _asshole._ "

A third hit curled Dean up in the bottom of his cage. Jonah managed to let rip a couple more times before Natalie's furious voice cut in.

" **Jonah!** _Back off_! What is your **_problem?_** You _brain donor reject_!"

-o-

Dean sensed rather than saw Natalie glaring through the cage bars, trying to assess the damage. He kept his eyes closed, panting for breath.

"But Nat!...This prize asswipe was tryin' to _exorcise_ me!"

"Well, I think you made it pretty clear how upset it got you. Now. _Back off_ from him you _imbecile._ Go get a move on with feeding and watering the rest, we gotta get back to the house...I _so_ don't need all your crap, I got work to do. Our newest lot needs advertising, that means I've gotta update the catalogue, as well as contact a couple of players personally about the opportunity to bag themselves an infamous wanted hunter we're offerin'. You _do_ realise, this human's name's gonna guarantee us a full house for our next auction? But that's _only_ if he's still _breathin'._.. ** _Comprendé, cretin_** _?"_

Jonah kept his head bowed, hiding the fury on his face at Natalie chewing him out in front of a Hunter. Natalie stared at Jonah in silence for a moment, trying to decide who was the biggest liability out of the two cousins. With a shake of her head, she spun around on her heels.

 _"_ I'm goin' outside while you and Cousin It finish up in here. Make sure this one gets an extra blanket, don't want him gettin' even a sniffle...Oh! Nearly forgot. No food for number two, he's water only. And Jonah? Listen to me carefully...Any more of your towerin' stupidity? I'm likely to find me with just the _one_ business partner. Think on that awhile baby."

-oOo-  
Chick


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8  
** -oOo-

Jonah glared at her retreating back before turning to stare back down on the Hunter, who was trying to push himself back up off the floor. Dean managed to gasp out his words through clenched teeth.

"You heard your...mistress...Go...Be a good doggy...an' get on...with your chores. No more...messin' with the...merchandise."

The daemon nodded thoughtfully.

"My chores huh? Right. Seein' as how you're her favourite pet, guess I'd better sort you first, eh puppy? An extra blanket weren't it? Who's a lucky likkle puppy then?"

* * *

 _Part way through Jonah's attack on Dean, and continuing throughout almost all of Natalie's loud and angry confrontation with Jonah, unnoticed by all except one man, was the high pitched wailing of a human dying in agony as flames, encouraged by the use of a solvent, greedily licked at his body. Becoming swiftly more ravenous, the spreading fire shrivelled his hair and made it vanish, it melted both his eyes and blackened and crisped his skin. The heat of it caused his blood to start to thicken, travel slower, becoming ever more sluggish until, mercifully, virtually solidified by the heat, it stilled. The flames soon began to crackle and spit, as the fat began to bubble and melt from his corpse. From the moment the fire was lit, inside the room of cages, number 12 stopped banging his head against the bars of his cage, his whole body starting to tremble as the awful sounds made by someone burning alive somewhere nearby, outside the walls of the cage room, reached his ears. By the time the burning man fell silent, tears of fear and mourning were spilling freely down the caged man's face._

* * *

-o-

Climbing out of a delivery wagon, Sam gave the driver a last wave of thanks before setting off along the main street, striding out as he followed the direction that would take him in to the town centre where he knew there was at least a couple of public car parks that he could wander around looking for something both suitable and accessible. Once he was done with the car he borrowed, he intended to leave it somewhere it could be easily found and returned to it's rightful owner. Sam ground to an abrupt halt at the sound of his phone and the ring tone it played, the one that told him the caller was Dean. He came close to fumbling the phone in his eagerness to answer.

"Dean? Where the Hell _are_ you?...Dean?...Talk to me...Hello?... _Who the Hell is_ _this?_...If you've hurt my brother, Goddamn you, I'll _kill_ you!... _Say somethin'_. Tell me what you want...No?...Ok. Hear _this_ then, _fucker._ _I'm comin' for you._ I'm already on your trail, so take my advice...If you haven't done it already, use what little time you've got left to write your will!"

-o-

Cutting the call, Natalie threw her cigarette to the ground and smiled to herself. Little brother didn't sound very happy at all. She idly began mulling over in her mind just how high might the bidding go if she had _both_ Winchesters? And how much fiercer a competition would it be likely create if they were put up for sale as two separate lots? Surely, whoever bid highest for one would also want the other? And potentially, whoever missed out on the chance to own the first, might fight all the harder to get the second. If only to piss off whoever had bagged the first of the infamous hunter brothers. It occurred to Natalie that, compared to the Winchesters, all the other merchandise became pretty much insignificant, little more than supporting acts, a poor warm up to get bidding going. In her mind, all the other men she had entrapped were re-designated 'throw aways', a bone for those who could never afford to bid for the hunters, but wanted to say they were there. It wouldn't be until it was time for the big time boys to step up that the real action would take off. The daemon turned her mind to exactly how much a Winchester might go for?

-o-

Natalie suddenly gasped out loud when realisation almost physically knocked her sideways. This was it!...This _was_ her Big Chance! With growing excitement she dared to consider the very real chance that, added to what she'd already put aside, those two lots could give her what she'd need in order to buy back full ownership of her soul! Natalie was almost driven dizzy at the possibilities rushing through her mind, and she started to over salivate. In charge of her own soul, she would be able to operate entirely independently, free from any interferences or rules laid down by the fifth rate salesman who called himself the King of Hell. She would truly be a free agent. A mercenary daemon, free to become the Queen of her _own_ Hell on earth! And it was all too beautifully, magnificently simple. All she needed was the second Winchester brother and he, oh so helpfully, was out looking for _her_. The whole short, sweet game plan was clear. All she had to do was let Sam Winchester find her, and make sure the news about the two highlights of her human auction didn't reach the ears of Crowley.

-o-

Natalie was confident she could keep the sale of the Winchesters discreet. It would mean contacting each potential big spender directly, rather than putting the Winchester's in the auction catalogue or on the auction's internet site. None of the big name players would be fool enough to give Crowley the heads up, for fear he'd relieve her of the two Hunters for free to gain favour with the brothers Winchester. Rumours claiming the unpopular King wanted to pal up with the brothers circulated throughout everyone's, airwaves, Hell _and_ Heaven, and Crowley did _nothing_ to disprove them. Natalie's mind was made up. She was going to do this...And she _wasn't_ about to split the cash with the cousins Moron and Moronic. They would need dealing with soon as the auction was over and payments made. Natalie was more than happy to personally end them. She started to give consideration to how outrageous she dared to be in what reserve price she placed on Sam and Dean.

-o-

Jethro wasn't being too careful while hosing down the fouled cage. He couldn't care less that that the men in the cages on either side were repeatedly getting caught both by the spray and by the water hitting the floor and rebounding. Both men had moved themselves and were curled up as far away from the icy water as they could get within the confines of their own cages; trying to present as small a target as they were able while they waited out the cleaning down of cage number 4. His cousin's voice stopped the daemon's happy game.

"Hey, man. Give this a thorough soaking for me."

Happy to oblige, Jethro turned the heavy stream of water directly onto the blanket that Jonah dropped onto the floor.

"That do you?"

" _Perfect._ "

-o-

Dean scowled at the sight of the approaching daemon, who held a sodden blanket at arms length.

"You should know I'm chalkin' everythin' up, meat-head."

Jonah grinned and dumped the blanket onto the top of Dean's cage, whistling happily as he arranged it to lie flat. Stepping back, he admired his handiwork, watching with amusement as the excess icy cold water began raining off the saturated blanket onto the glowering hunter sat beneath it.

"There you go jackass. As instructed, one extra blanket. Enjoy."

Picking up the box of food and water Jonah wandered off whistling and squeezing a bottle and a sandwich pack through the bars of each remaining cage as he passed, remembering to hold back the sandwich at cage 2.

-o-

Too early for the car parks to be filling up with the shopping crowds yet, Sam had to make his choice from what he presumed were mostly staff vehicles. Casually wandering around a second car park, Sam spotted a mid 1980's FJ62 series Toyota Land Cruiser and headed towards it. Unfortunately for the vehicle's owner, it's off road capability was exactly what Sam was looking for in the event of him ending up having to scour large swathes of woodland. Unlike Dean, Sam was no mechanic, but he had "borrowed" enough cars in his life to have a good working knowledge of the specs for a variety of vehicles. He knew, for example, that this four litre, six cylinder, 155 horse power engine didn't give many miles per gallon, but it would eat up almost any kind of rugged terrain. It was also reliable. Unfortunately for him, he had no choice when it came to colour. At some point somebody had decided that having the thing sprayed all over in a pretty violet blue and then decorated with the addition of lemon yellow tribal style designs on both doors, was the way to go. Once the vehicle was reported stolen, the stand out bodywork would definitely become a problem. Sam could only hope the owner worked long hours and didn't notice the car gone for a while. Settling into the vehicle, Sam left his phone handy on the front passenger seat, purely in case Mr or Miss Silent decided to call again for a chat.

-o-

Natalie had just entered into the compact "front of house" area when Jonah and Jethro both emerged from the back storage area where the cages were sited. Jethro turned off the lights, leaving the captives in darkness. The cousins were caught by surprise when Natalie greeted them both with an unexpectedly cheerful smile.

"All done in there my lovelies? I've been thinkin', how about on the way back we stop off at a store, pick up supplies, an' I cook breakfast for us all? Sound good?"

Thoroughly confused, but not about to turn down a gift horse, the two males glanced at one another. Jonah spoke for them both.

"Um...That would be great, ma'am...That is, if you're sure you wanna do that? I mean, y'know, after...?"

Natalie shimmied herself in between the male daemons and draped an arm across the shoulders of each of them.

" _Sure_ I'm sure! It's a celebration in honour of our latest acquisition...An' in honour of my own gorgeously genius recent idea. Gentlemen; I'm gonna make us all scrumptiously uber rich!...We, my dears, are gonna be offerin' by auction, to the highest bidder, _both_ the Winchester boys. Offered as separate lots, each one will be marked with a nice fat _20 million_ dollar reserve. How's that sound to you, my big, strong daemons?"

Natalie giggled girlishly at the mirrored expressions of shock on the faces of the cousins.

"That's _right_ , my dears. We're hitting the big time! They'll _definitely_ be bought, that's just a given but, even if they each only go at the reserve price? That's _still_ ten million for you, and ten million for _you_!... _And_ , my greedy lambs, you better believe I intend to make it my job to drive those _lovely_ bids _waaay_ above the reserve price. So? What d'you say about _that_ , my little toe nail clippings? 'Cos I have'ta say, it's got _me_ all...Well... _Hot_...An' _excited_!"

Jonah and Jethro shared another knowing look. Unexpectedly, this was turning out to be a damn fine day. Three way sex, followed by a hearty cooked breakfast, and a big chunk of pay to look forward to. It didn't get any better. Their hands answered Natalie while all three eagerly hurried back to the van, where Natalie obligingly and very deliberately sat herself in the middle of the two males. Resting her head on the back of the seat, she gave a lascivious wink, drawling, "Go ahead boys, keep me smilin' all the way home."

-o-

The moment the lights went off, Dean shoved both hands through the bars of his cage and began to doggedly manoeuvre the heavily waterlogged blanket over the top of the cage until, finally, it fell away. Already soaked to the skin, he was cold and shivering. Pulling into himself, Dean tried to distract himself from how uncomfortable he felt by quietly listening to the ebb and flow of the conversations that had started up between a few of his fellow captives.

"Anyone else thinkin' those scum shot an' killed that sap in number four?"

A voice Dean recognised as the guy in number two spoke out, sounding angry.

"That poor guy had a name. It was Jack, and _o_ f _course_ they murdered him. Likely shot him in the back, like most cowards do."

A third, wearily resigned sounding voice joined in.

"Front, back. It don't matter. Any one of us could be next."

Another voice whispered out of the dark.

"They burnt him."

It was number two's voice that broke the silence that followed the whispered statement.

"When you say they burnt him friend...?"

"It's what they did, set him on fire, I heard him...I heard him, and I prayed for his soul."

It seemed like everyone had begun to speak or shout at once. Dean closed his eyes, relaxed his breathing, and let a new certainty grow, using it to muffle and subdue pain where it could, cultivating it and holding to it, letting it spread over his weariness and form a support for his strength. His certainty flourished and bloomed. Natalie, Ugg, Thugg...They would all three be dead in the very near future.

-o-

After the initial hubbub of shocked exclamations started to die down, more individuals seemed to want to be heard, to say their piece.

"I tell yer, that ain't gonna be me dude. Keep your head down, play along, an' hope whoever buys you eventually let you go free."

"You...You really think they might? Buy one of us an' then let him go?"

"Don't you pay no heed to him, man. He's dreamin'. S'more likely you'll end up some perv's personal sex toy, know what I'm sayin'?"

" _Shit_! That bastard's given me _ham_ again! He _knows_ I'm vegetarian. Hey. Anybody gotta salad to trade?"

"All I know is, there's nobody shovin' nothin' up _my_ ass! I'll fuckin' kill 'em!"

"Hey! New guy...Not real popular, are you?...I'd say it's that big mouth of yours!...New guy?...What, suddenly you're the strong, silent type?"

"Nutbag?... _Nutbag_? You still there?... _Goddamn_! Anyone know if he's gone an' finally knocked himself out with his friggin' head bangin'? _Way ter go_ Nutbag!"

"Oi, _shit head_! Leave the guy alone why don't you? Try shuttin' the fuck up yourself!"

"Fuck you, number seven. Bet you juss can' _wait_ to be some perv's bum buddy."

"Ham for a salad? Anybody?"

-o-

Ignoring the empty parking spaces at the front of the diner, Sam drove around back to the overspill parking, not wanting to leave the Land Cruiser too obvious to anyone driving past, especially not the police. It was likely the theft hadn't yet been reported, but he had no easy way of knowing and he wasn't about to waste time checking on the police reports for the town he had left behind. He had passed the bar that was his brother's last known location and, as he had expected, the place was still locked up, the parking lot deserted. He had hoped to spot signs of someone living in, a parked vehicle, what could have been an upstairs apartment with curtains open, but there was nothing. Whoever ran the place didn't appear to live on site. There was no shortage of space inside the diner, a fact which in Sam's experience had both advantages and disadvantages. The advantage being he could set himself up with a good view of the entrance and ensure he had a clear exit route should he need to leave quickly. The noise levels were also low enough not to disturb him. The biggest disadvantage as far as both he and Dean were concerned was the possibility of waitresses with free time on their hands; the chatty, hopeful and persistent kind of waitresses. Sam unobtrusively checked out the both of them as they broke off from chatting to one another behind the counter when their new customer walked in. He breathed a sigh of relief. One looked old enough to be his grandmother and the other, beneath the tattoos and piercings on her face which were totally in keeping with her shaved head, couldn't have been more than eighteen. He was pretty sure neither of them would set their sights on him and he was able to relax, sitting himself down and reaching for a menu.

-o-

"Welcome to Vader's. Anything to drink while you look at the menu? I should tell you, we don't start with the roast dinners till 12pm."

Sam smiled politely at the young waitress.

"Thanks. Black coffee please."

As the waitress walked away Sam, for the first time, noticed the diner's decor, the Star Wars theme reflecting the diner's name. It was clear that whoever owned the place was a traditionalist when it came to the Star Wars franchise, the posters were all depicting scenes from episodes four through six. There was no sign of episodes one through three anywhere. Sam smiled, Dean would _definitely_ approve.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
 _Reviews make a nice pressie? :)_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
-oOo-

Dean shook his head at the pointless bickering between all the men and, once he felt able to exert some semblance of control over the impact of his ill treatment on his body, he finally raised his own voice above the din.

" _Hey_! _All of you_! Shaddup an' _listen_! ... Better. I wanna hear from anybody with somethin' _useful_ to say. I need intel. Like, what's the routine around here? Do those clowns always come in together? Or is there ever just one on their own? Anybody here ever come close to breakin' out? Do we know if they leave anybody guardin' this place? What's the numbers? You gettin' an idea of the kinda stuff I need to hear? Anybody know when this auction's set to happen? Who's been here longest, how long _is_ that an' what've you learnt, anythin? Does one of 'em carry the keys to these damn cages on 'em, or do they leave 'em around somewhere?"

Dean wasn't surprised to hear the voice of number two answer him first.

"Number two, name's Pete. What's yours pal?"

"Dean. Hi Pete, what you got for me?"

A voice loaded with sarcasm butted in. Dean recognised it as belonging to the guy who had previously queried Dean's popularity.

"Oh goody, heads up ev'rybody! Sounds like we got us two bleedin' _heroes!_ Seems we're all saved at last! Anybody wanna say Hallelujah?"

-o-

Dean hadn't got the patience for more of the man's mouthing.

"Listen, _Douche-bag_! How about makin' that the last crap to come outta your big mouth? Or do you wanna stay caged, which is fine by me? ... There's not _one_ of you gotta clue what we're dealin' with here; 'cept me. This' _my_ world, an' that means right now, I'm the best hope you've all got if you wanna get back to your lives. An' I give my word, I'm gonna do everythin' I can to get _all_ of us outta here; even my pal the douche-bag, if he decides to come with. _But_ I'm gonna need some help...And if I fail an' don't get us all free, it's not the end. There's someone on the outside who's already lookin' for this place, an' he _will_ find it, you just need to hope it's before the damn auction's over...Pete? Back to you, friend."

"Thanks Dean. Look man, the way you're talkin'? Maybe it's me, but, you're kinda making these creeps sound like they're somethin' more than just bad people. So...Here's the thing...That chick, Natalie?...Hell, you're all gonna call me crazy but, Dean, I _swear_ to you, I saw that damn woman's eyes turn _black._ An' I mean like _completely_ black, her whole goddamn eyes, no white there at all...Y'know what? Forget it, forget I said anythin'; I'm sorry, it sounds real lame now I said it out loud. Guess I imagined...

Dean broke in on Pete's apology.

"No, don't apologise. You weren't imaginin' anythin' Pete. You _did_ see what you think you saw."

-o-

There was complete and total silence as everyone waited on Dean with either curiosity, amusement or incredulity. While Dean took a moment to consider how best to explain, one of the group broke the silence.

"Seems new guy's slammed up now he's got ol' Pete thinkin' he weren't imaginin' nuffin'. I say he's jus' another loon, like ol' Nutbag. They're gonna be besties, Nutty an' Nuttier. Crazy an' Cra...

Dean's voice cut in.

" _Can_ it asshat!...No rule says I gotta open _your_ cage either; you could stay behind an' keep my friend Douche company? ... Ok. Thing is, the bitch an' her two lapdogs ain't human. Just so's you're all clear on what you heard, I'll say it again. Those three are _not human_. Now, I know that makes me sound like I've been snortin' pixie dust, but it's the truth an' I'm sorry, but life ain't never gonna be the same for any of you ever again, 'cos guess what? _Monsters are real_ , an' once you know that, you don't get to unknow it. On the up side though? There's people like me an' my brother, called Hunters. Our job is huntin', and killin' monsters...That's all those things you don't think exist...We do it 'cos we _know_ what's out there...An' we _keep_ doin' it so's everybody else can sleep easy at night, believing there's no such thing as monsters...That don't include any of you no more. Things like the three holdin' us, things that look human, but with pure black eyes? They're daemons...An' I _do_ mean the straight out of Hell type _daemons_...Oh, an' Hell?...Yeah. Real."

Dean patiently settled in to wait for the hubbub of laughter, denial, disbelief, derision and expressions of fear to naturally fade away, back into silence.

-o-

It was Pete's voice again that carried across the verbal melee.

"Pipe down... _Quiet!_... _Shut up!_ **_Everybody_**!... _Can it_!. Now, I know you all gotta make up your own minds; but I believe him. See, that female thing, _daemon,_ she didn't just turn her eyes black, she went on an' she did something to me. Best I can describe, she hit me with some kind of super power. It shoved me backwards like I weighed nothin', then she pinned me to the back of the cage; an' she never actually laid a finger on me...It's like she did it purely with mind power or somethin'. And she said something to me...I didn't get it then, but it kinda makes sense now. She told me there was nothing Holy in Hell, an' that she knew it ' _for certain'..._ Made it sound like she'd been there or somethin'. Guess now I know she _had_!"

From the darkness there came another, quietly spoken, voice backing Pete's story up.

"S'cuse me? Er, I'm Martin...Mr, I mean _Pete_ , well, sirs? He's telling y'all the truth. I seen it. I seen what she, that is the...Um... _Lady_ , did to him. I sees her kinda flick her wrist, an' next thing I'm watchin' him slidin' backwards high speed on his ass...Sorry! On his butt. He hit them back bars, an' it was like she stuck him to 'em with ultra glue...I could see Mr... _Pete,_ was hurtin' all the while she'd got him stuck...I know it's all down to y'all if you believe me or you don'. Either way don' make no odds to me. _I_ know what I sees. An' I don' mind tellin' y'all; it damn near scared the shi..Sorry...Scared the _crap_ outta me sirs. An' that's the truth."

Pete turned towards cage number one where the voice of Martin, recently turned nineteen years old, had come from.

"Thanks son. I appreciate you speaking up for me."

In the dark, Martin shrugged.

"S'ok. I'm juss tellin' it how it was...Mr Dean? If you _can_ get us all outta here, I'm willin' to help in any kinda way you need. See, my mom? She'll juss about've give birth to a barrel o' frogs by now she'll be so scared 'bout why I'm not home. She needs me, depends on me to help her look after my little sister. My sister's got needs, an' my mom can't cope lookin' after Victoria Louise on her own...They _both_ need me...Mr Dean sir? All I wants is to go on home...I juss wanna see my mom an' my baby sister again. I wanna tell 'em I'm sorry for gettin' missin' an' upsettin 'em...Mostly though, I jus' wanna tell 'em how much I love 'em, both of 'em...If you can help me do that? I'd be mighty grateful to you sir."

Pete nodded, speaking softly to the boy in the next cage.

"I hear you son...I hear you an I'm right there with you."

-o-

The youth's heartfelt plea acted like a catalyst. The men who had sat in silence listening to Martin's words now began talking, each one keen to provide Dean with whatever information they thought might be helpful to the man who, without deliberation or debate, had now been elevated into the role of leader. The guy who was in charge of organising their escape from the horror of being held captive by Hell daemons, ready to be auctioned off into the clutches of who knew what kinds of monsters.

-o-

Sam hadn't realised how hungry he was until he started on his **_Light_** _Sabre_ _ **Breakfast**_ , so called because of the vegetarian sausages, and everything being grilled. It's meat with everything fried counter part was listed as **_The Big_** _Obi_ _ **'One'**_ _Kenobi._ While Sam ate, he distracted himself by reading the rest of the diner's menu, smiling at the diner's use of ' _The Death Star'_ as it's alternative for 'Death by Chocolate'. This was definitely a diner he needed to bring his brother to, once he had Dean back. Sam's phone signalled that he had a new text message. Reading it, his anger was instantly re-ignited.

Your brother's a rule breaker, gets him into trouble.  
Suggest you find me soon, before I have to punish him again!

Sam knew that to answer was to play this a-hole's game, but needing some outlet for his anger, he keyed in a response anyway.

Tell me where you are, and I'll be right there.

-o-

Standing naked in her bathroom, Natalie contemplated Sam's answer as she brushed her hair, quite tempted to do exactly what he asked. In the end though, she decided to keep things vague, for now. Tapping out her reply, she hit send then, smiling, she made her way to her bedroom, where the cousins were already lounging on her bed, waiting for her to join them.

Look in the right place, at the right  
time and I'll be there, waiting for you.

-o-

Walking past Sam's table, the young waitress hesitated, hiking one pierced eyebrow. She was _sure_ she had just heard that tall guy snarl, like actually _snarl_! She decided right then that she would let Madge take the man his bill. After all, given Old Madge's age, and the number of years she'd been doing this job, she'd probably heard _loads_ of people snarl. _She'd_ probably have gotten used to it.

-o-

Sam stared again at the two messages sent by his target. Whoever it was, they were clearly trying to bait him, hoping to reel him in, and land him. The thought of heading into a trap didn't raise too much concern in Sam. In his and Dean's line of work, they both held the view that if the intended victim was aware that's what they were walking into, then it's potential to be effective was immediately halved at least. As to who had sent him the texts, the top contender in Sam's mind could only be the woman Dean had agreed to go on a date with. Especially given his brother's earlier text describing her as _'Some kinda freaky split personality.'_ An alternative possibility was that _both_ Dean and his date had been taken by an unknown third party, but for Sam, that idea only managed to come a distant second. Opening up the new text he had received, Sam scanned it again, and felt satisfied that he knew exactly where he needed to be, and when.

-o-

Natalie wandered back upstairs from the kitchen dressed in a green silk robe which she wore open. She paused in the doorway of her bedroom. Looking over to the bed, she rolled her eyes.

"If you two think you could manage to get your paws off one another? Breakfast is ready. After you've finished eating, I want one of you armed up and back out at the yard. From now till the auction, I want that placed protecting twenty four seven. C'mon, move your fanny's."

Natalie retreated and Jethro, himself no lightweight, reluctantly heaved himself partially out from beneath the heavier weight of his cousin.

"C'mon, move. We gotta go down."

Jonah grinned broadly

"That's juss what I'm doin'!"

Jonah stuffed his face into his cousin's crotch, slobbering over Jethro, managing to make him groan as Jethro shuffled and rolled until he extricated himself fully from Jonah's coarse attention and climbed off the bed.

"I'm serious! Sounds like something's goin' on, an' this ain't no time to be pissin' her off. Or maybe you're ok wavin' byzee-bye to ten mill just so's you can suck my dick?"

" _Hell no_! Ain't _nobody's_ dick worth _that_ kinda money!

"Better hope the Winchester's dicks are, if we're gonna see any real cash."

"Hey Jethro?...The Winchester dicks dicks!"

"You're one funny guy...Where's my pants?"

-o-

Over breakfast, the female daemon brought the cousins up to speed.

"Our second cash cow should be on his way to us later if he's a clever boy. He should show up at the bar tonight, all worried, alone, an' ripe for the plucking. An' then we'll have us a sweet little family reunion. Kinda heart warmin', y'know?"

Jethro chuckled, but Jonah looked concerned.

"Great, but what if little brother stands you up an' finds his way to the yard instead?"

Natalie gave Jonah a look of despair.

"First. How? How would he do that? He'll turn up, guaranteed. He'll be counrtin' on usin' _me_ to lead him to his brother. Second. Lets say he did turn up at the yard instead? You grab him and cage him, _obviously_! Do what you have to, but no kill shots. Keep in mind how much he's worth. Any _more_ dumb questions?"

The cousins sounded a joint "No Boss."

"Good. I'm gonna start getting the word out to our regular customers, then I'll be talking to the big players, start whettin' their appetites, get them to spread the news. I want this auction good to go for the day after tomorrow boys, so there's a whole load'a work ahead of us. Listen to me my boys, I'm relyin' on you to do what's needed. This' our golden opportunity, an' I warn you both, don't _dare_ let me down!"

Jethro grinned at Natalie confidently.

"Hey! No worries Boss...Not like it's our first parade."

Tilting her head, Natalie's gaze shifted between the two cousins.

"You're right. But, it could well be your last. I _mean_ , if we earn enough from auctioning off those Winchester boys."

-o-

It was the older waitress that came over with the cheque in response to Sam's nod.

"Here you go sweetheart. Everything ok?"

"Yes, everything was fine, thanks."

The woman hesitated.

"Actually petal, I meant are _you_ ok? Young Beverly was worried you might not be feelin' so good; or somethin' might be upsettin' you? Tell me to keep my nose out, but I thought I'd ask."

Sam gazed up at the woman in silence, his expression blank. Madge nodded.

"Ok. Got it. Here I go, keepin' my nose out."

Sam left the payment on the table, and included a generous 'guilt tip'.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	10. Chapter 10

_Wishing whoever's reading this a happy, healthy, and successful 2018 :)  
_ Chapter 10  
-oOo-

Pulling into the bar's car park, Sam was pleased to see a car and a bike already parked up and the external door into the place standing open. A signboard by the entrance announced Home cooked food available 12 till 3. Inside there was a slight chill to the place that confirmed it had not long since opened up for the day. The thirty something female behind the bar counter was in the process of removing the towels draped over the beer pumps. She smiled at Sam as he crossed over to her.

"Morning early bird. What can I get for you?"

"Hi, um, do you do coffee?"

"Just set the machine up, won't be more than a couple of minutes. How do you take it?"

"Black please."

"Black it is. Sorry, but we don't do breakfasts."

Sam shook his head.

"That's fine, I've just eaten...Actually, I'm here lookin' for someone who came in last night an' met up with a female. He's tall, short dark blonde hair, good lookin'. I can show you a picture of him."

The barmaid shrugged both shoulders.

"Won't help I'm afraid. I wasn't on duty last night. Craig was though, he's the owner. Probably worth showing him the picture. He's down in the cellar, I'll get him up for you."

From his side of the bar, it looked to Sam like the woman was shouting at the floor.

" _Craig? Craig! Cute guy up here wanting to ask you about a customer!"_

The sound of Craig's muffled voice drifted up from the depths of the cellar.

" _On my way..._ Um _... Debs? Is he a cop_?"

Debs looked Sam up and down.

" _No, don't look like it_...Are you?"

Sam smiled.

"No, not a cop, name's Sam, I'm searchin' for my brother."

" _G_ uy's not a cop, _he's a_ _missing person_."

Craig's voice appeared again before Craig did.

"He's a...? _How_? When he's stood right there talking to you?"

The dusty head and face of a bushy bearded male in his mid forties rose up from behind the bar counter. Once Craig was back on ground level, he only reached around five foot ten. He tilted his head back, eyebrows raised, and stared up at Sam.

" _Bloody Hell_ mate! What did they feed _you_ on?"

-o-

Craig looked at the image on Sam's phone and nodded, recognising Dean. Curious, Debs was peering over his shoulder.

"Yeah. He was in alright, night before too. You said this guy's your brother? I don't know if it's a regular thing, but I threatened to throw him and his scary woman out last night. Wasn't so much your brother, but his 'lady' friend attacked another female customer. Your brother stepped in straight away fortunately, so nobody got hurt; _he's_ the reason I only threatened to throw them both out. You might want to chat to him about his taste in women. Oh, _and_ suggest he lay off the cocktails. Doesn't tolerate them very well, does he?"

Sam looked startled.

" _Cocktails_? You sure? This guy in this picture? Drinkin' cocktails?"

Keen to have a better look, the barmaid took the phone off Craig. Her face lit up.

"Oh boy! You're not kidding about the good looking part. And he's been in _twice_? Both times on my night's off? _Unbelievable_!"

Craig snatched the phone back from Debs and handed it to Sam while admonishing the barmaid light heartedly.

"Stop drooling on the man's phone woman! Exercise some self control for once!"

He returned his attention to Sam.

"Have you had the pleasure of meeting the female your brother is hitched up with?"

Sam shook his head.

"No. Last night was their first date."

Craig told Sam as much as he could.

"She's been coming in here fairly regular for maybe three months roughly. Natasha? No... _Natalie._ Yup, that's her name. Always comes in either alone or with two super-sized, heavy weight mafia types, don't think either one is her boyfriend though. They come in together, but then the two brick walls go play pool, leaving the woman alone to entertain herself...Maybe they're her bodyguards?"

The barmaid grimaced.

" _Ohhh. Ghaargh!_ I know who you mean! You're talking about Nympho Natalie an' the Gruesome Twosome! _Honestly_ , that woman's _forever_ on the prowl, she's picked up quite a few guys here. Don't think she's ever started seeing any of them regular though. In fact, know what? I honestly can't recall her _ever_ meeting up more than two times with _any_ of them _._...Oh! _Such_ an _idiot_! I never thought about that before, but...? Yeah, yeah. Look, I don't know if it's some sort of a pattern? But like I said, my experience is she sees guys twice, then she's pointing her laser beam at somebody else. What I've _just_ realised is that, after a guys been with her? I can't recall even _one_ of them ever coming back in here! That includes two that were real regulars before she targeted them!"

-o-

Sam furrowed his brow.

"Is that how it appears to you?"

"How which _it_ appears?"

"You used the word 'target', is that what she seems to do? _Target_ certain men?"

"I...I guess so...It's always the _stand out_ lookers she homes in on, y'know? Like your brother? More than just regular good looking..."

The barmaid suddenly blushed and became flustered.

" _Oh_! I'm not saying you're brother's more...Um...I mean, just because...Because you _are_...Clearly...As well. And' I'm sure she _would've..._ If you'd... _Oh Hell_. I need to sit in the cellar!"

Craig's eyes shone with amusement, while Sam continued as though Debs hadn't said anything.

"So, you've noticed she seems to see guys just twice, then you've seen _her_ come to the bar again, but never any of the men she's picked up? Right?"

Craig now stared wide eyed at his barmaid.

"Hold on! What? Debs? Are you thinking Natalie and her heavies might be responsible for this man's brother going missing?"

Debs' expression was miserable as she looked from Sam to Craig and back to Sam.

"Maybe...I think...Yeah...I guess...And maybe some of those other guys too?"

Sam felt for the barmaid, none of this was on her, but he could see in her eyes, she was already wondering whether she could have done something? Should have done something? Sam couldn't leave her trying to carry blame that wasn't hers.

-o-

Debs found herself mesmerised, the sole focus of a pair of soft, smiling, blue green eyes that now gazed at her intently. There was a rapid return of the warmth spreading over her cheeks and throat. Debs tried shifting her own gaze, and found herself now staring at the guy's mouth, at lips that were curved into a smile aimed directly at her. The warmth in her cheeks turned into full on scarlet. Forcibly dragging her eyes off that tempting mouth, she cleared her throat and took a small step backwards, trying to find something to look at that wasn't this guy. The man in the photo was forgotten, unable to compete with this flesh and blood...Hot? No. Handsome? Nope...Totally _drop dead gorgeous_ man. And he was looking at _her_ like she was the only woman around, _which_ , she admitted to herself, _she was_. She wondered if he was expecting her to say something? Anything?

"Um...?"

"That's outstandin'! Well done!"

"Huh?"

-o-

Debs wanted to slap herself. _Wow, intelligent response much?_

"For spotting a potential pattern. I'm impressed!"

Debs grinned, feeling proud of herself, while Craig's stare flicked between them both.

"Hang on mate. You mean little Debs here is onto something?"

"I think she is. This woman's not lookin' for a relationship, there's some other reason for her approachin' men. My guess? She _needs_ the male model type, she's all about the looks. So, lets say, like she did with my brother, she makes contact first night she spots a guy meeting her criteria an' gets friendly, arrangin' a date for the followin' night. On date night they meet here, have a dew drinks, then leave together. Every guy she's picked up here never sets foot in the place again, an' when _she_ next comes in, she's back on the prowl...Either of you think it sounds almost like she's maybe buildin' a collection?"

Puffing out his cheeks, Craig blew the air out of his lungs through pursed lips.

"You mean like she's collecting men? _Shit_!...Oh! Hang on; should I be offended? Nympho Nat's _never_ chatted _me_ up! My mother's always telling me I'm gorgeous! Has she been lying to me all my life?"

Debs punched Craig in the shoulder.

"Idiot! This' serious Craig! I think Sam could be right. She scopes them, sets up a date, takes them home or wherever, and _Blam_! Trapped...Sam? You think that's what's happened to your brother?"

Worry settled over Sam like fog.

"Yeah. I do."

Craig looked overwhelmed.

" _Crap_ man! I'm _really_ sorry. I might've been able to help him out somehow last night."

Sam smiled sadly at the bar owner,

"No you couldn't. You'd no reason to suspect Dean might be in danger. No reason at all, _ok_?"

Although Craig nodded his understanding, he couldn't stop his anger towards Natalie not only for taking Sam's brother, but also for having chosen to carry out her activities in _his_ bar.

"Mate, you need to let the police know there's a pattern...That's if...? Dude, you _have_ reported your brother missing, haven't you?"

Sam shook his head.

"No. It wouldn't help if I did...I'm dealin' with this myself."

Eyes wide, Debs shook her head, panicking.

"No! You can't, you'll get hurt, you mustn't, you've _got_ to..."

The barmaid stopped when Sam took her hand in his.

"Debs, I'll be fine, I promise. This kinda thing is exactly what I do. It's my job."

-o-

Debs stared up at Sam in confusion.

"Your job?"

Sam lowered his voice and looked at the pair seriously.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you any more...But trust me, I _will_ deal with this, an' I'll get my brother back, along with any other guy's she's holdin'."

Sam fixed on Craig before the barmaid could protest further.

"Craig? I'm sorry to do this, but I need to ask you a favour."

Pretty sure he had a handle on who Sam probably worked for, Craig winked conspiratorially at the taller man.

"You just ask away, my over long friend, whatever you need. Always willing to do my part to help out the U. S. of A."

-o-

"Pete? Listen up an' tell me if I've missed out anthin' important."

Dean ran through the information he had been given, siphoning out the intel he felt was useful to him.

"The daemon bitch an' her mutts usually drop by twice, mornin' an' night. So in theory we've got roughly another eight to ten hours before they show their ugly hides again. Mornin' is when they deliver food an' the bitch pops in to say Hi. Last visit's a check up by one of the Chuckle Brothers. Far as anyone knows, they don't bother guardin' the place between visits. They've got us in some kinda abandoned business lot. Eleven of us were targeted in the same bar. Five of us were picked up out of state, taken to some dump motel, then brought here. Listenin' to you all, I'm pickin' up they've mostly gone for guys with nobody close enough to realise _too_ quick that they're missin', with three clear exceptions. That's me, you Martin, and you, Pete. Takin' us three tells me they're prepared sometimes to take big risks...Martin? Your mom's gonna have reported you as missin' to the local police back home, right?"

"Yessir."

"Pete? You've got a wife an' kid. Your wife's gonna have done the same?"

Dean could hear the smile in Pete's voice.

"Oh yeah, an' she'll be down there giving 'em Hell daily! You'd feel sorry for 'em if you'd ever met my wife...Gotta say though, I'd sorta hoped they would've caught up with these kidnappers by now an' stormed the place. ... I keep on askin' myself, what _was_ I thinking when I accepted a drink off that daemon bitch? I mean, I love my wife man, y'know? But even if we get outta here, when I get home I could still lose her over this."

"Guess that depends on what you end up tellin' her...Same goes for all of you. Just do me one favour? Keep me an' my brother out of your stories? Otherwise our lives could end up gettin' even more complicated! So Pete, your local cops, an' your's Martin, they will've instigated their standard missin' person protocols. The way they work ain't likely to lead 'em here...Sorry, but they'll be looking for the normal. Then there's Sam, that's my brother. He won't bother with the cops, except as a possible source of information. I'd told Natalie I gotta brother, but she didn't know who she was plannin' on takin' till _after_ I was dumb enough to get caught. Fruits of lettin' 'Little Dean' do all the thinkin'. That, an' whatever shit she slipped in my last drink. What it comes down to is the only real possible outside help bein' Sam. Now, I love my little brother, I do. But that don't mean I think we should sit around here waitin' for him. These fucks are plannin' to auction us off. It's guaranteed that now they've got their paws on me, they're gonna want that auction to go ahead _real_ soon; get me off their hands an' get outta town fast with the cash. So I'm suggestin' we implement plan A, _asap_."

Sounding hopeful now, Martin asked the question on everyone's lips.

"What's Plan A?"

"Simple...We get out before the auction goes ahead. Anybody wanna disagree?... _Awesome_. Right, first off...I need somethin' like a strong paperclip, a good sized safety pin, or anythin' else I could use as a lock pick. If nobody's got anythin' on 'em, I want everybody from number five all the way to me searchin' the floor around the outside of your cages an', if you come up with somethin' that might do it, pass it on down the line."

Pete's voice called down to Dean.

"Any particular reason you don' want us at this end helpin' out?"

He could hear the smile in Dean's voice when the Hunter replied.

"Hey my friend. You and the other two want to search? Knock yourselves out. But, how you gonna get anythin' you find passed from number three to number five? Unless you got real stretchy arms like the guy in the Fantastic Four?"

There was a few seconds silence before Pete answered.

"Fine _Brains_! Guess I'll have'ta give you that one."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11  
-oOo-

Hearing the Hunter laugh, Pete smiled in the darkness to himself. It had only taken this one guy to overturn the arguments, the despondency and the terror which had hung over all of them until his arrival. Pete felt a twinge of guilt, but he couldn't help feeling grateful that Dean was with them. He sincerely hoped the man suffered no further harm at the hands of the daemons _Crap! Listen to me, daemons, as in,_ _daemons, all the way up from Hell. Shit! Hell! Actual Hell! I'm never gonna sleep right again!_ not just for Dean's sake, but for all their sakes. They needed him.

-o-

Sam looked around the bar's medium sized kitchen then at Debs.

"I um, I'm not generally the cook at home, Dean's better at that stuff than me."

"Ok. Well. Lunch isn't bad, usually me an' Craig would do it between us, as well as serving in the bar. Let's see...Can you throw salad together?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with that."

"Great, and baked potatoes just need piercing and..."

"Those I can do."

"How about fries? You know how to make proper ones? From scratch? And butter bread rolls? Open cans?"

Sam nodded.

"Ok, then you're hired 'cos that's about all you need to be able to do. Dessert comes down to ice cream, cheesecake out the refrigerator, or pastries. We don't bake them, they've been delivered already. I suggest the first thing is to get the baked potatoes in the oven, we don't microwave here, and don't worry, I'll be helping. You'll be fine. Oh, your hair? Make sure you cover it, always wear disposable gloves to handle the food and don't use veg knives or chopping boards for meat products or visa versa. See? Now you've even had training!"

-o-

Debs gazed around the kitchen before turning back to Sam.

"You don't have to do this, you know that, right? Craig an' me can cover it like normal. I mean, old Nympho don't roll up on that bike of hers till the evenings."

Sam shrugged.

"I've nowhere else to be, might as well do somethin' useful. Anyway, it'll help it look like I really work here if I've had time to get familiar with everythin', I hope."

Debs grinned mischievously.

"I could start acting _real_ bossy if you like, make it look more authentic?"

-o-

Jethro was using his turn guarding the yard and the merchandise to give the second storage unit a freshen up, before making a start on setting everything up in readiness for the upcoming auction. Nat had enforced onto him that she wanted the place doing properly for what she was calling the 'Auction of the Century'. Unlike previous occasions, they were even going to put out a couple of rows of chairs at the front, facing the podium, so those big number players who wanted to be there in person weren't having to stand huddled with the average bidders, or those who came with no intentions of spending this time around, but were there simply to see the Winchester brothers being sold off, and how much for. His cousin had pulled the night watch, while Jethro himself would be providing back up for Natalie when they went out to bag Sam Winchester and add him to their sales list.

-o-

The sound of a car being driven through the yard stopped Jethro's cleaning efforts and he swapped mop and bucket for a gun before peering out from the unit he was working on. He relaxed when he spotted Natalie's car, both her and his cousin climbing out of it. Jonah went to the trunk, while Nat strolled directly over to where Jethro waited outside the front of the unit.

"Hope you both come to give me a hand?"

-o-

"I 'ave something!"

Dean's head turned in the direction of the excited voice.

"What's your number pal?"

"Numero onze...Apologies, eleven. I am Henri."

"Well ok, Onri, you wanna start passin' it along? Can people say their cage number as it gets to you so I can track it?"

Dean waited, listening to the sounds of shuffling and muttering.

"Twelve? Yeah, twelve. 'Lo. Danny. Danny boy. Real happy you came at last."

"Thirteen, Jonathan."

"Fourteen, James."

"Fifteen, Brett."

"Sixteen, Joe."

"Thanks, and seventeen, me...Seriously hopin' that's your hand I've gotta hold on there Joe!"

-o-

Reaching out in the dark, Dean found the hand of his neighbour and the small. precious piece of metal grasped between his forefinger and thumb. Taking it, Dean used touch to assess what he was holding, finding he had an over sized staple, the kind used on wooden packing crates. He frowned, Dean would have preferred something with more flex, metal staples this size could be quite brittle and rigid.

"Ok, let's give this a go."

Joe was curious.

"You done much of this lock pickin' stuff before then?"

Shifting his position, Dean felt for the padlock to his cage and began to carefully work the mechanism.

"Some, yeah. No guarantees I'll get it with this staple, but I'll give it my best shot."

There was silence as the men all listened and waited on Dean. They could hear the occasional quiet scrape and scratch of the staple catching on something, after five minutes, that sound was joined by low muttering from Dean.

"C'mon...poke...it thing...Stupid ass...juss...bendy...help... _Damnitt_..."

The men all heard a distinct _ping_ followed by silence, then Dean's growling voice.

" _Douche_ ovvajerkinweaslin' _staple_!"

Martin couldn't help laughing.

"Um...You ok down there champ?"

Dean mumbled in answer to Pete.

"Prong pinged off into orbit somewhere, no problem...I hope."

About to try again, Dean paused as a single soft brushing noise began, and was soon joined by more of the same kind of sound. He smiled to himself and went back to his task, while his companions again slid their hands over the floor area as far as they could reach outside their bars, searching for an alternative to the staple.

-o-

" _Got you_ , you sonovabitch!"

Hearing the triumph in the Hunter's voice coming from the next cage, Joe hissed excitedly.

"Dean? You dunnit pal?"

"Yup."

While Dean began to carefully extricate his stiff and aching body from the cage, an excited wave of sound rippled around the unit, Joe raised his voice a little to ride above it.

"Am I next, man?"

Dean was lying on the floor, appreciating being able to stretch out. Although he couldn't be seen, he shook his head at Joe's question.

"Sorry Joe, no. _Nobody_ else gets out till I've made sure it's clear outside. Don't worry though, I _will_ be back an', if it's safe, I'll give every padlock a go, an' I'll keep at it till everybody's out. You've got my word, _nobody_ gets left behind...Not even my pals Douche an' Asshat."

"Um, well, Douche? That'll be me. Number nine. Adam, an' I'm real sorry 'bout stuff I said. Stress, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know how that is."

'Asshat' chose to stay quiet. It didn't matter enough for Dean to comment.

-o-

Dean's news had naturally caused some murmurs of disappointment and confusion. Needing everyone to stay on board, Dean raised his voice to reach all the captives.

"Listen. _Pipe down,_ all of you! There's a reason I'm not gonna try gettin' you all out right away. I have to know there's time to set about pickin' every lock, an' that means checkin' there's nobody around out there. I can't take the risk of Ugg an' Thugg walkin' in here before everybody's free. Believe me, I'd not be the only one they'd 'have a word with'. So far, if they're around an' spot me, then it's only _me_ they'll be mad at. Understand?"

Joe spoke up for everyone.

"An' what if there _is_ somebody around? What then?"

"Believe me, if I gotta chance to take 'em down, I will. Otherwise it's plan B, an' we get outta here tonight instead. Now, everybody hang tight while I go take a look. Be right back."

-o-

Natalie stepped back and considered her handy work critically. Jonah paused next to her.

"Lookin' good boss."

The female daemon had improvised and stood a single metal file cabinet at the front of the auction room, lining it up centrally facing two rows of unmatched chairs. She had then disguised the cabinet by completely hiding it beneath the folds of a large velvet cloth of the deepest blue, creating the impression of a tall lectern, behind which she, as the auctioneer, would be stood on the day of the sale.

"Hmm. Not too bad. Just needs a final flourish."

Holding the flat of her right hand out, facing what would be the front of the lectern, Natalie closed her eyes. She stood stock still, only her lips moving in silence to indicate that she wasn't a dummy made of wax. Without warning, there was a loud hiss followed by a sudden, powerful flare of light, the outermost edge being such a brilliant white, pain erupted in both Jonah's eyes as he stared at it, forcing him to swiftly turn away. From that piercing pure white, the colour of the flare moved through different shades of red, gradually deepening towards the central point of the eruption, where the spluttering spectacle culminated in a scarlet so intense it looked like it would melt anything unlucky enough to be touched by it. After a final, scene stealing, flourish, the flare of light blinked out, leaving behind a scarlet sigil so vivid, it appeared to glow and pulse against the background of midnight blue.

-o-

Jethro had stopped to watch the show, safely off to one side. Dragging his awestruck stare away from the new born sigil, he focused instead on the face of the calm looking she daemon, and whistled through his teeth.

" _Holy Lucifer_ Boss! Where'd you learn _that_?"

Hiding her inner delight at the male daemon's reaction, Natalie placed her hands on her hips and gazed at him haughtily.

"We might be business partners, my pet, but _never_ make the mistake of thinking you know me. I'd been in this game for _decades_ before I decided to take you two on. I have contacts that you wouldn't believe, and I am always very, _very_ good to the right ones...They can often be _extremely_ grateful in return."

Jonah moved closer to the sigil, twisting and turning his head as he inspected it.

"I ain't never seen this one, what's it do?"

Natalie tossed her hair over one shoulder.

"That's for me to know...Both of you, go scout round the yard an' what's left of them other buildin's, I want somethin' like a mini stage fixin' up for the merchandise to stand on while my buyers look 'em over. An' it better not look shoddy when it's done!"

-o-

Navigating in total darkness, Dean used what he could remember of the storage space layout along with the row of cages themselves to guide him vaguely in the right direction for the door out of the storage area. Once he ran out of cages, he shuffled the rest of the way, feeling ahead with his feet and keeping his arms stretched out in front of himself like some Zombie out of The Evil Dead. Dean could imagine how hilarious Sam would find the sight if he could see it. He paused as his foot nudged against something, using the same foot, he gave the thing an experimental shove. The object was light and easily slid over the floor out of his path. It's light weight and the sound it made when Dean moved it suggested empty cardboard box. He very nearly did a swallow dive at the next obstruction when his foot suddenly sank into something soft with a slightly springy, stodgy feeling that enveloped and tangled itself up, around, and over his foot, stalling Dean and unbalancing him. Reaching down, he untangled his foot from within the tumbled pile of blankets. Before finally reaching the metal side wall of the unit into which the door was set, he managed to stand on the end of a hosepipe, send a discarded bottle of water rolling and sloshing away from him by accidentally kicking it, startle himself by crushing a disposable plastic drinking cup underfoot and, in addition, stubbed a toe against a wooden table leg. At which point he heard Pete's dry voice.

"A word of advice my friend...If you see any of our hosts out there? _Please,_ don't try sneaking up on them!"

A ripple of tension releasing chuckles and sniggers came from the rest of the caged men.

"You're a funny man, Pete. Remind me to hire you for my brother's birthday party."

-o-

Arriving at the side wall, Dean ran his hands over it, feeling for the door as he side stepped along. He was beginning to think maybe he was moving in the wrong direction, when he finally felt the door's frame, and then the handle, beneath his searching fingers. There were no sounds of life from the other side of the door. Holding his breath and biting on his lower lip, Dean turned the handle, silently praying that the door wasn't locked, releasing his breath again when he found it wasn't.

"I'm at the door an' gonna go through to the next area. Back in a few."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	12. Chapter 12

_For my sis. Liz who bakes a mean cake!  
_ Chapter 12  
-oOo-

The bar wasn't packed out at lunch time, but there were enough customers ordering light lunches to keep Sam busy in the kitchen. With help from Debs, he had devoted time during the morning to pre-prepping as much as he could and, at the same time, becoming familiar with where all the tools and utensils were kept. Sam turned out to have a tidy working style, always clearing up after one task prior to moving onto another. Despite all he and the barmaid had done, Sam still found himself growing more tense the closer it got to the lunch time service. In the thirty minutes prior to the start of service, he was constantly poking his head out of the kitchen to scan the bar and make a rough count of the numbers of customers in there, all of who could potentially want food. Five minutes before service, Debs had scribbled down the first orders and brought them into the kitchen.

-o-

"Ok, chef, Got your first four orders for you, here you go."

Sam nervously took the note off Debs and stared at it, relieved to see that all four orders were for sandwiches, and two side orders of chips in addition. Sam nodded, to himself as much as to Debs.

"Ok. I got this. I can do it."

Grinning, Debs patted Sam's arm.

"Sure you can honey. Once the meals are ready, tray them up an' leave them over there on that counter top, then give me a heads up that they're waiting to go. Don't forget, shout me if you need anything. Good luck Sam, you'll be fine."

With a wide grin, Craig wandered into the kitchen as Debs left.

"Hey Sam my man. Beg pardon! _Chef._ Just wanting your contact details before it gets busy. You know, for punters coming back tomorrow asking who to sue for their dose of food poisoning?"

Sam's face fell.

"Hey, don't worry about it mate, shit happens... _Specially_ with food poisoning!"

Sam scowled, furrowing his brow as much as he could and twisting his lips into a sneer of pure distain. Pointing back towards the bar he growled and snarled at Craig.

"Fuckin' out my _fuckin'_ kitchen, before I _fuckin'_ pick you _fuckin'_ up an' _fuckin'_ stuff you in the _fuckin'_ dishwasher... _Fuckin_ '!"

Craig gave a fast salute and scuttled away, laughing freely at Sam's surprise channelling of Ramsey. Grinning and feeling less tense, Sam attended to his first orders.

-o-

Two hours later Debs had to tell Sam to stop, that service had finished. Sam glanced up at the wall clock in disbelief. Debs gave him a playful nudge with her elbow.

"Don't time fly when you're having fun?"

Sam gazed around the kitchen, stopping at the last of the crockery and cutlery that waited ready for their turn for the dishwasher. Everything else was already clean and put back where it belonged.

"Yeah. Sure seems to."

"How about you go outside an' get some air while I bring you a cold beer."

"Sounds good Debs, thanks."

"Oh, I think you've more than earned it Sam."

-o-

Sat alone in the sun, Sam contemplated the past two hours. He really _had_ enjoyed himself and he'd had a number of compliments about his salad dressing passed onto him. He'd appreciated the structure, the routine, knowing what was expected, while having the flexibility to be creative as far as the simple menu allowed. He'd found pleasure in the preparation, putting together what the customer ordered, and satisfaction at seeing plates of food he had made going out of the kitchen, and emptied plates coming back. The greatest danger he had been in was from himself, if he had been dumb enough to cut himself on a knife, or if he'd slipped on a spillage because he hadn't bothered to clean up immediately. And it felt both strange and pleasingly novel to have worked within a set time frame. His stint in the bar's kitchen was a universe away from being a Hunter and, right then, he found it fairly easy to imagine himself doing a regular job. One where each weekday, at a predictable time, he would be expected to start work. And at a set time he would be expected to stop work and go home; free to do whatever he wanted until it was time to return to work the following day. He found it hard to imagine having the security of being able to predict with 99.9% certainty, that at this same time in six months to the day, he would have just finished the lunch service, exactly like he had done today. Inside, Sam still harboured the small hope of, at some point, having a shot at a 'normal' life.

-o-

Dean had made it through to the small service come reception area that sat between the large storage area, and the outside world. Not really wanting to flick the light on, he stood still and gazed around. It wasn't as dark here as it was back in the cage area, suggesting some small natural light source. Dean realised it was coming from the bottom of the door that gave egress to the outside and although it was faint, it was enough to guide him to the door without further mishap. Again he put his ear to the door and listened. Other than a single bird repeating the same note over and over, he heard nothing. Trying the door handle, disappointment flared. The door wasn't budging. Running a hand over the face of the door, there was no keyhole making itself known, meaning it was likely that either the door was bolted closed on the outside, or it was secured by a padlock. Dean rested his forehead against the flat of the door. With no lock to pick, the only other option for getting out of there was to attempt to physically break the door open.

-o-

Dean's thought were interrupted by the sound of two voices coming from the outside. Dean recognised them as belonging to Ugg and Thugg. Poised to race back into the main storage area to try and get back into his cage in time if necessary, Dean listened in.

"Can't juss throw a pallet down, the gaps between every plank a' wood mean's the lots'll keep falling through 'em."

"So? We lays planks off _another_ pallet in the gaps on the first an' _bam_! Easy. We'll be quicker if we split up."

Dean pulled a face. Between the door needing breaking open, unlikely to be a quiet process, and the daemon cousins being around, maybe Natalie too, the Gods seemed to be voting unanimously for Plan B. Dean turned and headed back into the cage area.

-o-

Debs came out of the bar carrying two bottles of beer.

"Ok if I join you?"

"That'd be nice."

They sat in easy silence for a while, Debs occasionally giving a friendly wave to familiar customers as they arrived or left. It was Sam who finally spoke first.

"I really enjoyed workin' in the kitchen for that couple of hours, it was different, y'know? To what I normally do. There was no craziness, no workin' blind, no constant worry, no repeated curved balls comin' my way, no havin' to work with individuals you can't stand the sight of 'cos you need them, no constant riddles an' puzzles, no having to attack or defend, no life threatenin' danger...Well, assumin' I haven't been sendin' out plates of food poisonin'...Ah, sorry. I'm talkin' way too much."

-o-

Debs patted Sam's knee.

"No you're not...Your job? Sounds like you're always having to take risks, and people could get hurt, or _worse_ , if you screw up...I mean, to someone like me who's worked _here_ for the past eight years, your job sounds _way_ more exciting, interesting an' challenging. I do get that if all those things are what you face every day, then a job like mine must seem wonderfully straight forward. Well, actually, it is. Isn't it? I don't mean in a bad way though. It's satisfying I guess, knowing what you've to achieve that day an' being able to go home knowing you've done everything you needed an' wanted to. But honestly? It can feel _sooo_ monotonous. Though really, I guess, doing _whatever_ job every day can make _any_ job feel repetitive to the person doing it, no matter how great it sounds to someone else. Like being an astronaut? Sounds great! But I bet floating around in the same outfit everyday, looking at the same view everyday an being stuck inside a little metal tube with the same faces gets boring too!"

Sam chuckled.

"They way _you_ describe it, it would."

-o-

Debs stood up again.

"You're all set for this evening. Craig's spoken to the evening chef an' told him you'll be around. He said you'd called asking about work an' he felt guilty about not having any vacancies, so he offered you chance to get a feel for working in a bar, including the kitchen, 'cos you've not done it before. He's also told Chef you'll be around just for a couple of hours...Sam? You _do_ realise that Craig thinks you work for the CIA or the FBI or somebody, don't you? That's why he's cooked up the story about you wanting a job. He's calling it your 'cover story.' Honestly? Next he'll start serving you martini's all evening, shaken, not stirred, obviously! He's closing the bar in ten so we can all eat an' relax a bit. I guarentee you that Craig's gonna do his best to find out what organisation you work for and what Bond style gadgets you've got."

Sam laughed,

"Well, he's got me all wrong, but it could be entertaining to play him along for a while?"

Debs smiled broadly.

"You're a wicked man, love it. We'll open up again at 5.15. I'll call you when lunch is out if you wanna stay here an chill, Mr Bond."

"Sounds good. Thanks."

Watching the pretty barmaid stroll away from him back into the bar, he wondered if she was single and, if she was unattached, how she would respond if he asked her for a date? With a small sigh he pushed the thought away for now, everything else being secondary to getting Dean back.

-o-

The cousin's stepped back to admire the small wooden stage they had knocked together and positioned near the auctioneer's podium. Jonah clapped his cousin on the back.

"Works great! Would be even better painted up."

"We'll do that tomorrow, it'll still give it plenty of dryin' time before the sale."

Natalie appeared wearing rubber gloves, carrying surface cleaner and a cloth.

"That my stage? Could do with paintin'."

Jonah gave a crooked smiled.

"That's jus' what we were sayin' boss. We're gonna do it tomorrow."

"Excellent. Jethro? It's time we got back to the house. We need to go over how we nab us another Winchester if he show's up, an' what we're gonna do if he don't. After that, you can deal with any callers wantin' to register a telephone bid while _I_ get dressed for our big night out...And boys? I've got some real good news! I've already got a bid logged for Deanie that's a mill over our reserve price! I'm tellin' you boys, we're gonna walk away from this event _rich_! Come auction day, I want both our Winchester brothers scrubbed clean, hair washed an' pretty, the works. I'll need to check for _myself,_ but I'm thinkin' both those boys might be best shown naked, increase the exitement and the determination to win amongst all those lovely potential buyers...Jethro? C'mon, move it."

Jethro grinned at his cousin.

"Gotta go dude. You be sure you take good care of our golden boy in there; an' get another cage all nice an' comfy for when Nat an' me reel in little brother. Later."

-o-

Dean had put himself back inside his cage, although the padlock wasn't fully closed up again as when he moved, Dean needed to be able to move quickly. He had felt too awkward to remain outside his cage, maintaining his freedom of movement when he was refusing to give that same freedom to anyone else. It didn't matter that his companions couldn't see him moving around, knowing would have been enough to possibly cause bad feeling in some of the men, and Dean needed them all to fully co-operate and work together when the time came.

-o-

The caged men listen in silence while the Hunter shared with them the rough outline he had conceived for a proposed Plan B. Taking his brief, the men were keen to help pad out and tighten up Dean's idea. More individuals than were needed volunteered to take on specific roles. In the end Dean identified who he wanted, then devoted time to carefully talking through the roles before getting his volunteers to explain back to him in their own words what they would be doing in the role they had. Once Dean was satisfied, he then outlined what he himself intended to do. Everyone was given space to raise any questions, concerns or fears and, finally, the plan was set. All any of them could to do from then on, was wait.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
 _Confession - Never pushy for comments or critisism, but thinking_ _I've_ _lost the plot with this fic?  
It's so quiet in here! Good or bad, gonna keep posting anyway, 'cos it's all written *Sticks tongue out*:D  
_


	13. Chapter 13

_Pardon my crappy French spurt, only language I'm good at is cussing_ ;p  
 _Been through fic and shortened it, so only 4 chapters left after this one!  
_ **Chapter 13  
** -oOo-

The evening chef was an older guy, the kind that never studied for a degree, everything he knew he'd taught himself, learning by trial and error, by watching his grandma and his mother, by scouring recipe books, then adding his own twists. He didn't believe in one scallop and three garden peas constituting a starter, and to him a main course was supposed to cover more than one sixteenth of the dinner plate. He knew his clientele, and he produced food to suit. As far as he was concerned, 'Fine Dining' translated into 'Rip off Dining' based on his view that fine dining could be summarised as "Payin' a shit load more for a shit load less food." He was very much a 'Don't like it? Eat somewhere else' kind of man, and Sam liked him immediately. When they were introduced, the chef had looked Sam up and down, finally announcing "You'll be handy for gettin' stuff off top shelves anyways." Sam very quickly realised that the guy didn't actually need any help in the kitchen, he was perfectly at home and in control, pre-prepping whatever he could. He set Sam off mixing up a bowl of salad, either Craig or Debs had obviously told him how popular Sam's salad variant had been at lunch. He also turned out to have eyes in the back of his head.

-o-

"There somethin' fascinatin' 'bout that clock lad? Amount o' times I seen yer lookin' at it. Seems to me you've started to get a might jittery too, you waitin' for somebody to turn up?"

Recognising that this was a man who was nobody's fool, Sam gave him a version of the truth.

"No. No, it's the opposite actually. I think my brother's ex might drink here. Me an' her never really hit it off. I wouldn't wanna go out into the bar area without I first know whether she's in or not. It's gettin' close to the time she'd usually show up, if it's her."

"You thinkin' she might give you some trouble? Is that it kid?"

"Yeah, she might. Debs is gonna give me a heads up if she comes in so I can check whether it _is_ her or not."

"An' if it turns out it's her?"

Sam shrugged.

"Guess I keep my head down in here, that way there won't be a problem."

The chef nodded.

"Well, if that's the case, guess I'll just have ta' keep yer busy. Speakin' of, you wanna check through all the dinner plates an' such, make sure everythin's fit to use? Don't trust that damn dishwasher to clean things right."

It smacked of being something designed to keep Sam occupied and out of the chef's way, but Sam didn't mind that at all.

-o-

Meal orders had come in at a steady pace since the start of the evening service and Sam had found himself a role doing pretty much everything else bar cooking. H was given tasks like filling up the dishwasher, cleaning down the food prep area, passing seasoning, herbs and spices as the chef demanded them, dealing with spills and anything else, all intended to allow the chef to concentrate on cooking. Sam was in the larder when Debs' head appeared round the open doorway and startled him by hissing at his back, " _Nympho's here_!" Fast reflexes managed to catch the large jar of expensive Saffron that Sam knocked off it's shelf with his elbow.

"Oops? Sorry!"

Leaving the larder door open, Sam pulled Debs into the larder area with him, firing questions at her in an urgent half whisper.

"Is she on her own, or with her heavies? What's she wearing, so's I recognise her. Did you notice anythin' different about how she's dressed tonight? Does she look like she's waiting for somebody? Actually, forget that, she probably always looks like she's looking for somebody, 'cos she always is."

" I dunno! I just got a flash of her walkin' in...Listen, you stay here, right? I'll go an' casually check her out...Um...What am I lookin' for again?"

"While it's great to see you kids playin' nice together, you mind movin' your kissin' game to somewhere else? Somewhere _not_ in my kitchen?"

The chef winked at Sam while waving off Debs' protestations that they hadn't been kissing at all.

-o-

The chef simply rolled his eyes when the barmaid trotted back into the kitchen again, pulling Sam away from filling the dishwasher and bundling him into a corner.

"Ok. She's _definitely_ hovering like she's waiting for someone. There's a couple of guys in on their own, she's looked once that's all, now she's just checking out people as they come through the door. Oh, an' she's dressed to kill. Course, when I say dressed to kill, I _mean_ she's looking a total slag. Skirt that _I'd_ wear as a wide belt, boobs _everywhere_ , big flashing neon sign over her head saying 'Cheap Rates'; y'know the sorta thing?"

Sam grimaced at Debs' description.

"I'm gettin' the idea. Is she here on her own, or with the heavies?"

"No sign of them, _but_ , she ordered two beers then went outside an' was back within a couple of minutes with just one. You want me to go look outside? I can do a glass collection?"

Sam shook his head no.

"Think you can explain to Craig an ask him to do it? If the woman's not stood where she might hear?"

"Sure. Be right back."

-o-

The Chef glanced up as Debs hurried out of the kitchen again, while Sam returned to his task. With a shake of his head the chef continued plating up. Within minutes, Debs was yet again scurrying back into the kitchen.

"Good timin' lass, here you go, table four."

"Sorry chef. Can you call Craig to do it?"

Eyebrows raised, left standing holding out two plates of food, the chef watched as Debs glanced around, then made for the walk in larder again, where Sam was.

"Can I call...? Fine! _Craig_? _Service!_... _Please!_

-o-

As the meals were handed over, Debs ran back out of the kitchen. Craig just shrugged his shoulders at the chef's questioning gaze. Turning away from the bar owner, the chef instantly halted and stared at Sam emerging from the larder.

"What the...?

Adjusting the safety goggles he was now wearing as well as his hairnet, Sam gave the chef a half smile.

"Won't be long."

Mouth hung open, the bemused chef watched Sam exit the kitchen after Debs and Craig. And when Sam returned, holding a couple of orders for food, the chef was waiting for him, arms folded across his chest.

"Hold it _right_ there my friend!"

-o-

The chef handed Sam's fake FBI badge proclaiming him to be Agent Samuel Scully back to him.

"Knew the 'ex-girlfriend' story was a pile o' bull shit. An' the piece o' baggage out there, is she the woman you're after?"

"Yeah, it's her."

"So, go an' arrest her then son! If it's back-up you need, I gotta good selection o' knives, an' I'm happy to oblige."

Sam didn't doubt the man.

"Thanks, but I need her to lead me back to her HQ, then I'll call in my team. We're gonna close her whole operation down in one hit."

The chef looked suitably impressed.

-o-

Debs came into the kitchen three more times with updates, each time it was after 'Nympho Nat'had approached a different lone guy, spoke briefly, then walked away and continued watching the door. The evening service ended before the bar closed, leaving Sam on his own hiding out in the now darkened kitchen, waiting for word that the woman and her man who had spent all evening stationed outside the bar, were on the move. As things turned out, it was, it wasn't until Craig had already called 'last orders', and then done a 'five minutes to drink up and leave' call out before Debs was able to finally give Sam the news he had been waiting to hear.

-o-

The men in their cages were starting to shuffle around, their restlessness gradually increasing as time moved on with nobody yet having come into the area to check on them; only Dean still sat patient and unmoving. Speaking quietly, Joe's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Dean? I'm damn sure one of 'em should'a looked in on us by now. What're we gonna do if nobody shows?"

Dean spoke to the wider group.

"Anybody got a way to tell what time it is?"

There was silence at first, then a single voice piped up.

"It's not far after ten., PM that is. Not far after twenty two hundred. Last check's normally been done anywhere between eighteen an' twenty hundred hours. Maybe they ain't gonna bother tonight?"

Thanks pal, who am I talkin' to?"

"Asshat."

-o-

Almost an hour later, silence had already descended in the cage area when the sound of the inner door being unlocked disturbed the peace. As the dull lights were flicked on, Dean took a fast glance at who was doing the nightly check. He smiled to himself as he lowered his forehead down onto his knees, it was Jonah.

-o-

As soon as the big male stepped into the room, he was greeted by a single voice calling out to him over the sound of another man who moaned and whimpered in distress. Jonah slowly made his way down to cage eleven.

"Sir, Sir. This persons next to me, l'homme sans chapo? I thinks he is having the same sickness as the other. Vite, vite sir! Look, you will see!"

Frowning, Jonah glared at the moaning man in cage 12 who's features were screwed up in pain as he clutched at his stomach, his whole body writhing in agony. The daemon kicked a foot against the bars.

"You. _Crazy man_. Look at me!"

Ignoring Jonah, the occupant began moaning louder, begging for help as he thrashed around, turning his back to the daemon. Jonah tried kicking at the bars again to get the man to look at him. When that failed, the pissed off daemon squatted down in front of the sick man's cage and produced the cattle prod from inside his coat.

"I said _look at me_ , simpleton!... _Fuckin'_ look at me _now,_ or I'll use the rod _shitforbrains_!"

"That ain't gonna happen, _toilet scum._ "

-o-

The daemon started at the voice in his ear, feeling the cattle prod snatched out of his hand at the same time as his head was smashed against the bars of the cage. Inside the cage, Danny moved much quicker than his supposed poor health should have allowed, grabbing both the daemon's wrists and yanking it's hands inside the cage. He clung onto the big daemon for grim death while Dean repeatedly applied the thing's own cattle prod to the back of it's thick neck, causing the muscles there to twitch and cramp as electrical charges shot through them. The stench of burning flesh grew stronger, along with the daemon's cries of anguish. Not satisfied, Dean stepped back and delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of the daemon's head, finally quietening him. Danny released Jonah's hands as the big daemon toppled sideways to the floor, silent and still. A cheer rose up from all the occupied cages. Not pausing to celebrate, Dean began searching the unconscious daemon's pockets, smiling grimly when he withdrew a bunch of keys and a cell phone. Quickly sorting out the key for the padlocks on the cages, he unlocked Danny's cage first, before handing both the keys and the cattle prod over to him.

"Nice work there friend. Go release the others, it's time we all left this dump."

"Yes _sir_!"

-o-

Returning his attention to Jonah, Dean slid his hand inside the daemon's coat and grabbed the gun out of the shoulder holster he had felt while searching for the keys. Aiming the daemon's own gun at him, Dean gave Jonah a couple of firm kicks, satisfying himself that the male was thoroughly out while he waited for every man to be freed. Grateful just to be able to stand and stretch, they all looked to Dean, awaiting their next instructions. Dean's gaze searched out Pete and he grinned at the man, seeing him properly for the first time. Pete didn't hesitate, striding across to the Hunter, he threw his arms around Dean and hugged him.

"Thank you buddy. Thank you."

Slightly embarrassed, Dean extracted himself from the man's hug and cleared his throat.

"Any time, but, we're not home free yet."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
 _All chapters will be posted by the end of this weekend :D_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
-oOo-

Dean raised his voice to address the other men.

"Time to buddy up like we agreed. When you've done that, have a look around for anythin' you can use as a weapon but fightin's gotta be a last resort. Seriously, daemons don't die easy. Once we're outside, no hangin' round for teary goodbye's, Survival rules...Stick together for as long as you can, 'specially in unpopulated areas stay in shadows whenever you can, if you're gonna try hitchin' a ride, wait till you're out the immediate area, be choosy what vehicles you target. Head for populated areas asap if you can. Stick to the rules an' you got the chance to stay safe...Ok people? Move it. _Lets do this_!"

-o-

Martin came over having been buddied up with Pete.

"Hey kid. You want to look around for some kind of weapon? I just need a minute with Dean."

"Sure."

Pete waited until Martin was out of earshot before turning to Dean.

"Listen, why don't you buddy up with us? I'll feel better knowing you're not out there alone."

Dean shook his head.

"I'll be fine. Soon as I know you lot are clear, I'll ring my brother. You worry about keepin' yourself and the kid safe."

Pete nodded his head at the prone figure of Jonah.

"What about him?"

"He'll be taken care of...C'mon, help me round this lot back up. Sooner you're all gone, the better."

-o-

Dean peered out into the night from the open door into the storage unit, spotting a parked van. Keeping his voice low, he turned to Pete who stood at the head of the huddle of men crowded around the inner door.

"Their van's parked up outside. Stay here while I check it's all clear."

Pete hissed back at him.

"Let me go with you."

With a quick shake of his head, Dean held out Jonah's gun.

"Here. Take this. I need you to stay here, anything happens to me, I'm relyin' on you to get everyone out...Watch for me signalling if it's all clear, then get lost, all of you. That's an order!"

-o-

Pete moved to the front doorway, tracking Dean's movements briefly, then the Hunter was lost to him.

"Damn, he's good."

The next time he spotted Dean, he waved in the direction of the storage unit from alongside the van.

Pete took a deep breath and turned to the waiting men."

"Right people, it's clear. Move out quick, and good luck. Martin? Stay close to me son."

-o-

Silently, in twos and threes, the former captives raced to start their journeys home. Pete and Martin were the last to leave. As they stepped into the yard, Martin nudged the older man's arm.

"Why not use the van instead of walkin'?"

Pete shook his head.

"Dean's on his own. Them other two daemons could turn up anytime an' like the man said, they'll likely wanna find him more than the rest of us. He might need that van more than we do. We'll try hitching a ride soon as."

-o-

Martin was silent for a while as they left the lot and set a fast pace, keen to get out of the immediate area, then...

"Pete? If there's real daemons out there, what else d'you think's real?"

"Dunno son, not sure I wanna think too hard on it. There one thing we know for sure though, there's other Hunters like Dean out there, and I'm _real_ happy about _that_."

* * *

Fifteen hours later, when young Martin at last arrived safely home, it was with a different outlook on the world, a newly developed sense of purpose; and with the clear knowledge of what he intended to do with the rest of his life.

* * *

-o-

Dean watched from his position up against the side of the van, counting the men off, making certain they had all gone before he went back into the unit to deal with Jonah and call Sam. Moving swiftly back towards the unit, he remembered giving Jonah's gun to Pete.

"Way to go Winchester. Guess I gotta improvise."

Pulling out Jonah's phone, he dialled Sam's number while he moved.

-o-

Keeping a tail on someone in an urban setting demanded skill, but even harder was trying to keep tabs on a vehicle that was being driven along virtually deserted back roads that cut through dense woodland without arousing suspicion. As well as keeping as far back as he dared, Sam had begun turning off at random intersections, only to immediately do a 'U' turn and re-join the road he had just left, hoping that if Natalie was monitoring the rear view mirror it would appear that the vehicle some way behind her had turned off, and a different car had happened to turn onto the same road as her. Sam could only hope she didn't spot the pattern that was one car turning off always being followed by 'another' car turning onto the road behind her. When Sam's phone sounded showing the call was coming from a private number, Sam hesitated before answering.

"Hello?"

"Sammy? It's me."

Sam had to stop himself from laughing out loud with relief at the unexpected sound of his brother's voice.

"Dean! Thank God! Where are you?"

Dean glanced around.

"I'm at some abandoned business lot. There's a couple of metal storage units. My date turned out to be a daemon, along with her two buddies. I could do with... _Baby_!"

"Natalie's a daemon? _What?_ Baby who?"

" _My_ baby, she's here... _Whoa_! You called her Natalie...Sam? Where are..."

-o-

A powerful arm wrapping itself around Dean's throat cut his words short, his knees sagged as a well aimed blow landed in the region of his kidneys and the phone he was using clattered to the ground. As Dean's eyes began to close in response to the choke hold around his neck, he could hear Sam's voice frantically shouting out to him. The arm around his neck released the Hunter and Dean dropped to his hands and knees drawing in ragged breaths of air as a boot connected with his ribs, sending him the rest of the way to the ground. He tried to curl up as successive kicks found their mark time and time again, until Dean no longer responded. His hand gripped tightly around the phone, Sam could only listen helplessly to the sickening sounds of the repeated assault on his brother and Dean's grunts of pain falling into silence. A brief scraping sound told Sam his brother's attacker now had the phone his brother had bee using. Breathing heavily from his exertions, a man's voice spoke cheerily to Sam.

"Whoops! My bad, Dean can't talk no more."

"You're dead, I swear, you're dead."

The call was cut off.

Knuckles white on the wheel, Sam glared at the car up ahead, it would be so easy. Without him realising, his foot was already pressing harder on the gas, closing down the distance between him and his target.

-o-

Seeing his cousin's name, Jethro answered the call to his phone.

"Hi. We're on our way over, the brother was a no show... _What_?"

Paling, Jethro's glance met Natalie's curious gaze.

"You're freakin' _kiddin'_ me...? _Shit!._..Yeah sure. I'll tell her... _Fuck_!"

Jethro sat back with a despairing groan while Natalie put the phone he had been holding to her ear.

"Tell me what, Jonah?... _Really_?...You don't say...Oh baby, _poor_ you!...Do you think you can manage to keep a hold on Winchester for me? _Good boy_. I'll be there soon."

-o-

Natalie ended the call and handed back a confused Jethro his phone.

"Poor Jonah, sounds like he's had quite a rough time!"

"Um...Yeah..."

They were the final words Jethro spoke as, with one hand, Natalie efficiently sliced open his throat. With Jethro bleeding out at her side, she licked the blade of her Hell forged knife clean, enjoying the tingling, stinging pain it caused her. Putting her foot down, she rapidly began increasing the distance between herself and an unknown vehicle that had, until then, been close to catching up with her.

-o-

" _Damnitt_!"

It was the last thing Sam wanted, having to pit the Land Cruiser's speed ability against another vehicle. His mind searched for anything he knew about the specs of the car he was now trying to keep up with. The female's sudden increase in speed told him 'Nympho' had probably taken a call from his brother's attacker. Sam couldn't afford to lose her now. _C'mon, 2009 Pontiac Vibe, what're we up against here? Ok, ok. 158 horse power against my 155. Crap on fuel economy like this thing, waaay better acceleration. Gonna really have to work it, an' hope wherever she's headin' ain't too far, or that she runs outta fuel before I do!_

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
-oOo-

Jonah stared down at the Hunter, then gave him a final kick for the sheer Hell of it before hauling his lax body up off the ground and bundling him over his shoulder. Carrying his load back inside the storage unit, he unceremoniously dumped Dean inside the first cage he came to. Searching the unresponsive man, Jethro was disappointed not to find his gun. He began casting around for something to secure the cage door with, giving a grunt of satisfaction when he spotted his keys lying abandoned on the floor. Re-fastening the dropped padlock back in place around the cage door, Jonah next wandered back into the front end of the unit, grabbing the one chair from behind the small counter. Strolling back to where he had left Dean, Jonah plonked the chair facing the front of the Hunter's new cage and sat himself down, waiting to see who showed up first, Natalie and his cousin, or the person Dean had rung. Re-running what he overheard of Dean's side of the conversation, the daemon suddenly became hyper-alert, positive Dean called the person he rang 'Sammy'.

"He rang his Goddamn _brother_! _Shit, shit, shit_!"

Jonah quickly got to his feet and stared around the area.

"Gotta find me a weapon. _Fuck_! I _knew_ it! I _knew_ the other one'd come here...That stupid fuckin' cow _missed_ him!"

Striding around, searching for anything at all to arm himself with, fury had begun to mingle with the daemon's fear. _One of 'em should'a warned me, instead 'a the Hell slut drippin' out that poor you crap!...C'mon, there's gotta be somethin' round here I can use!...Maybe it's time this operation become a two man show? Dump the bitch, permanent like. Start splittin' the dough two ways, 50/50. She shouldn't get the bigger share anyways, ain't her does the hard work. Yeah. Time to talk to Jethro 'bout us puttin' the old hag outta our misery._

-o-

Natalie drove in a cold fury. First Sam Winchester didn't turn up at the bar, and now _this_. All the merchandise she'd collected, _gone_! She could visualise her Big Chance disappearing down the drain, accompanied by the reputation she'd worked to build up with her buyers. It wasn't likely to take long for complaints to reach Crowley's ears, then he'd soon know about her plan to auction off the Winchesters behind his back. _Fuck! I'll be lucky if all he does is demote me right back down to 'meeter and greeter'_ _at the gates of Hell._ This auction had become a complete screw up. _Somebody_ had to fucking pay, _before_ she did a disappearing act, taking the one bargaining chip she'd got left with her; Dean Winchester.

" _Fucking_ asshole Jonah! _You're finished, jus' like your moronic cousin_!"

-o-

The daemon was driving like a, well, daemon, and Sam was doing everything he could not to fall too far behind, straightening every corner, ignoring give way rules at relevant junctions, assuming any other driver _would_ give way to him, driving on the wrong side of the road whenever it helped, and all the time being very aware that the way he was driving would send a clear signal to Natalie that he was following her should she see him. He had no way of knowing whether she had already noticed him or not, but he knew that the speeds she herself was hitting on the narrow, winding, unlit roads they were now travelling would demand that she concentrate on what was ahead. Maybe she wouldn't bother to check whether anything was behind her?

-o-

Surprised to see the Pontiac suddenly slow down right before executing a hard right up ahead, it headlights sweeping over a rusted metal gate hanging open. Sam reacted swiftly, hitting his breaks hard and killing his lights. As soon as the Land Cruiser came to a stop roughly thirty yards short of where Natalie had turned off the road, he turned the engine off. Sam's eyes narrowed as, watching through a chain-link boundary fence, he tracked the progress of the Pontiac via it's headlights as it moved through an abandoned business yard, until the car was hidden from his view by the wrecked shells of a small clutch of buildings. Reaching behind, Sam lifted his duffle over and onto the front passenger side seat of the cruiser. Even in darkness, using touch alone, he was able to pick out the familiar items he thought would be most suitable for the job ahead. He hurriedly situated his selection about his person before climbing out of the Land Cruiser, not quite shutting it's door, wanting to avoid the sound carrying over to the daemons inside the lot.

-o-

Leaning over the cage holding Dean, Jonah glared down on the Hunter. He banged the flat of his hand down onto the top of the cage a few times. Getting no response, he tried kicking the cage side instead, still the noise and the jarring of the cage had no visible effect. He briefly considered sticking his hand through the bars, quickly shoving that idea aside.

"Open your fuckin' eyes, _scrotum_ , before I turn the damn hosepipe on you... _Winchester_!"

Jonah slammed his hand down onto the cage one more time, wishing he'd held back some on the beating he'd dished out to the Hunter. The daemon's attention was drawn away from the unconscious human by the sound of a vehicle crossing the lot, getting closer to the storage unit before coming to a stand-still. Nervously, Jonah raised the metal bar he had broken off one of the cages and, turning to face the partially open inner door, he waited.

-o-

Sam's long legs carried him speedily but stealthily over the short distance to the main entrance and into the lot. Scanning around, his eyes accustomed to night working, Sam honed in on the faint glow of light shining from within the open door of one of a pair of large metal shed type buildings. Staying in shadow, he made his way closer to the open shed, stopping and ensuring he was outside the range of the low light's glow when he spotted first the Pontiac, and then Natalie standing by the open passenger door of her car, her back towards him. Sam heard her shout out, he guessed to the daemon he had threatened over the phone.

" _Jonah honey_? _Come on out_ here and _give me a hand_ would you? Your poor cousin feels _deathly_ travel sick. Must be due to my _awful_ driving!"

Waiting for the daemon called Jonah to show himself, Sam's grip on the Taurus in his right hand tightened. Carried in his other hand, was the daemon killing dagger.

-o-

Hearing Natalie's voice, the big daemon breathed a sigh of relief, particularly as she really didn't sound at all angry. In fact, she sounded worried. Concern flared in Jonah on hearing his cousin wasn't well and he hurried outside, keen to help get Jethro back inside the relative safety of the unit. The now improved odds of three daemons to one Hunter, should Sam Winchester show, were the kind of odds that sat much happier with Jonah.

-o-

Once outside, Jonah hesitated when he saw Natalie standing alone behind the open passenger door of her Pontiac. His worry for his cousin increased, and he made a move to hurry towards the woman, halting again uncertainly when she held up a hand signalling him to stop. With a wide grin, she reassured Jonah.

"S'ok my sweet...I got this."

-o-

Puzzled, Jonah watched Natalie reach into the car with one hand, all the while still smiling across to him, her gaze never shifting away from his face. The male daemon's confusion switched to horrified shock when Natalie effortlessly dragged the blood soaked body of Jethro out of the passenger seat, dumping his corpse on the ground at her feet before slamming the passenger door closed, giving Jonah a clear view of the now empty shell of his cousin. Natalie's smile evaporated and her eyes flashed to their true black, never flicking off Jonah's face. The ice in the even tone of her voice sent a shiver through the newly nervous Jonah as he realised he had been right about Natalie's mood, she wasn't angry...She was far, _far_ , beyond mere anger. Natalie casually placed one high heeled foot directly on the corpse's groin.

"Oops!...Looks like it could be too late for poor cousin Jethro...Don't you think?"

Jonah instinctively took a step back, the useless metal bar slipping from his boneless grasp to hit the ground with a loud clang. Still Natalie's unblinking stare remained fixed on him, her expression devoid of any emotion, hollow, empty. Comprehensively masking her inner swirling, seething lava hot rage that held her teetering on the knife's edge of unholy insanity.

-o-

Hidden in deep shadow, Sam was struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. Natalie appeared intent on doing most of his work for him! It was obvious she herself had killed the male daemon who had accompanied her to the bar and, if the expression of terror that was now on the remaining male's face was anything to go by, it seemed likely it was his turn now. The current scenario wasn't one Sam felt particularly keen to step into the middle of. He was perfectly content to remain hidden and let this thing play out without any interference from himself, unless he saw any sign of Dean being dragged into the situation.

-o-

Taking her foot off Jethro's body, Natalie began slowly and deliberately walking towards the frightened daemon, her hips swaying and the light behind Jonah catching on the blade of the lethal looking knife she held loosely in her hand.

"Y'know. I think I'm going to do you a favour, my little lambkin."

A flash of hope crossed Jonah's face at Natalie's words, maybe she still needed him?

"You...You are? _Really_?"

"Why so surprised? Don't you think you _deserve_ a favour?"

Jonah wasn't at all certain how best to answer.

"Yeah!...Um...No? Um...?"

" _Please_ Jonah dear. _Do_ make up your mind, there's a _good_ boy."

As Natalie drew closer, Jonah tried to back away from her again, discovering that for some unknown reason, he couldn't get his feet to respond. His fear escalated again.

"Natalie, _please_. It was Winchester, he'd got free somehow an'..."

Jonah's attempts to explain petered out when, coming to a halt in front of him, the female gazed up at the bigger daemon and held a finger to her lips, shushing him.

"Not interested...I want to tell you about the favour I'm going to do you...I'm going to let you join your dear cousin!...Tell me how good I am to you, Jonah."

Jonah began shaking his head rapidly from side to side.

"No, Natalie, _please_..."

From where Sam was watching, it seemed like the female daemon hardly moved, and yet a long line of blood blossomed down the length of Jonah's torso.

"Tell me how good I am to you, Jonah."

The male was now visibly quaking.

"Don't, I'm beg..."

Jonah's plea turned into a stomach churning, long, high pitched squeal that only ended when the male ran out of air. Keeping hold of the hilt, Natalie delicately stepped sideways and Sam cringed when he saw where Natalie had chosen to bury her knife. A mixture of both blood and urine began to quickly spread from either side of the blade, continuing down the legs of the unfortunate daemon's pants. More fluid spurted through the air in an arc, where it would have caught Natalie down her front had she not moved. Pulling her blade half out of Jonah's crotch, she then rammed it home again. She snarled up at the screaming daemon.

" _Tell me how good I am to you_!"

Jonah's voice was little more than a strangled screech.

" _Y...You...Verygood...Tome..._ _ **Fucknoooo!**_ _"_

Yanking the knife out, Natalie smiled happily.

"That's _right_ my pet. I'm _very_ good to you... _See_?"

The knife's movement was a blur. Jonah's hand fluttered up to his neck, grasping and fighting to stem the fountain of blood from his artery even as he collapsed to the ground. Natalie didn't spare the dying daemon a glance as she stepped over him, and advanced on the outer doors of the storage unit.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
Last 2 chapters up very soon :D


	16. Chapter 16

_As mentioned prev., decided to shorten this fic and bring it to an early  
_ _close as there's not much interest, so I'm guessing it's not really appealing  
_ _to this wonderful SPN family. That means this is now the penultimate chapter!  
_ _Final chapter/Epilogue up in a few_ _ **:**_ _D  
_ Chapter 16  
-oOo-

Sam had to force himself to remain still until Natalie had disappeared inside the unit before he moved out of the shadows and sprinted across the lot to the metal building she had entered. He flattened himself up against the front of the unit, grimacing at the sound of Jonah's last gurgling exhalation. He cautiously glanced around the open outer door in time to see the inner door not quite fully close behind the she daemon. Sam slid into the unit's small front lobby area after her. Pausing, he heard Natalie speaking in the odd sing-song voice usually reserved for talking with babies.

"Oh my poor, dear little human! What that _nasty_ Jonah done to you then? You don' worry 'bout him _or_ that nasty Jethro no more, ever!"

Hoping the daemon's baby-talking to his brother kept her attention, Sam used his foot to open the inner door wider. Seeing Natalie had her back to him, he used the advantage of his long stride to get closer, his gun already raised.

"They're _all_ gone away. Little Nat's gonna take care of you now. That's _right_! Little Nat's gonna look after you _real_ good, make you look all pretty again. S' jus' you and me now."

"An' me!"

Sam fired before the daemon could react.

-o-

Sam's shot hit Natalie in the centre of her lower back, the bullet lodging in her spine, it's impact dumping her face down on the floor. Moaning, she half twisted her upper body around and stared up, wide eyed with shock, at the exceptionally tall figure who still had his gun trained on her. She started scrabbling against the floor, trying to move her legs ready to stand while the image of an equally tall male, hair netted, wearing clear plastic safety goggles and a white apron appearing behind the bar counter and collecting food orders flashed into the female daemon's mind.

"What?...Why're _you_...?"

Sam gave her a grim smile.

"Decided to retire. Kitchen staff in a bar? Not really my game...Hi. I'm Sam Winchester...An' you're _toast_!" _Ok, sounded waaay funnier in my head, hope Dean missed it!_

The second shot shattered the daemon's sternum, the third was a direct heart shot, but still, her upper body thrashing and writhing, an animalistic wailing coming from a mouth that was twisted in agony, Sam knew it wasn't enough. Securing his gun at his back, Sam gripped the daemon killing dagger tightly, letting Natalie see it when he moved in. Screeching, her arms flailing, lips pulled back to reveal her teeth, Natalie fought back, trying to fend the Hunter off by scratching and clawing at Sam's face and neck, raking her nails through his flesh, coming dangerously close to gouging an eye out, while her teeth bit and gnawed on his collar bone when she failed to reach his jugular. Blood streamed down Sam's face where her nails had sliced him open. Sam gritted his teeth against the dreadful sensation of teeth piercing through layers of clothing and skin, then deep into muscle where the maddened female worked to tear chunks of living tissue out of the Hunter. Sam didn't try stopping her, instead he wrapped both his hands around the knife's hilt and, making use of his entire upper body weight to increase the force he used, he slammed the blade deep into Natalie's chest, burying it right up to the quillons. With both his eyes screwed tight closed, he determinedly held on, refusing to be dislodged by the female's initial frenzied movements in response to the blade ploughing through her body. Sam remained in the same position and kept his eyes closed even after the daemon's arms slumped to the floor at her sides, and the horrifying sounds of her fully fledged fury and terrible agony had finally ceased.

-o-

"S'mmy?...You c'n stop now."

Suddenly weary, feeling the weight of every single hour since he had last slept, Sam slowly lifted his head. Blinking his eyes open, he turned his blood drenched face towards his older brother lying haphazardly in the bottom of a cage.

"Sure?"

"Mos'ly sure."

Sam gave Dean a single nod before letting his head dip again, leaving him gazing down on Natalie's slack jawed face.

"Alright then...Good."

-o-

Dean's half closed eyes tracked Sam as the younger Hunter crawled off the female daemon's corpse and took a few steadying breaths before painfully manoeuvring himself back up and onto his feet. He wiped his face on his jacket using the crook of his elbow and stared silently for a moment at the bloody smears now soiling the jacket's fabric.

"You ok S'm?"

Sam turned again and for a while he silently studied his injured brother, taking in the sight of the variety of cuts and dark bruises marring Dean's face, the further signs of bruising around his throat, the blood, dirt and oil stained disarray of his clothing, the patterned marks left by the soles of someone's wide boots, the signs of bruising to his torso that Sam glimpsed through rips in Dean's ruined tee and his brother's uneven breathing. Sam coughed out a brief laugh at how, as so often in the past, Dean could be so badly hurt and in such a poor physical state and yet be far more concerned about Sam, even if all Sam suffered was a slightly sore pinky, than he ever was about his own injuries!

"Sure. I'm fine Dean. How 'bout you?"

Dean managed a half smile.

"Yeah...Me too. Fine...Always."

-o-

Sam frowned at the padlock on Dean's cage.

"Key?"

Dean glanced towards the unit doors.

"On one 'a the males."

Sam nodded his understanding.

"They're both dead. Which male? Jonah or Jethro?"

Dean didn't bother asking how Sam knew the names of the two males.

"Jonah."

His expression stern, Sam pointed a forefinger at Dean..

"You stay right there, ok? No wanderin' off while I go get 'em. Back in a minute."

Sam strode out of the unit, leaving Dean to muse with admiration on the fact that his baby brother had single handedly ended not just Natalie, but the two heavy weight males as well! _Way to go Sammy! My baby brother totally rocks!_

-o-

Even though Sam had heard Jonah's last breath, he still approached the daemon's remains cautiously, screwing his nose up at the powerful, stinging stench of ammonia that hung about the daemon's corpse and was underscored by the odd metallic smell of blood. The daemons pants were still wet with lost fluids. Searching through the pockets of Jonah's clothing, Sam kept his eyes averted from the blood soaked mess that was left from Natalie stabbing and slicing deep into the male daemon's genitals. Finding the key he needed in one of Jonah's pants pocket, he grabbed it and carried out a quick pat down over the daemon's torso, relieving the corpse of it's phone before gratefully moving away from the vile stink that hung over the body.

-o-

Dean was still sprawled on the bottom of the cage when Sam returned, waving the key at him.

" _Found it_! Are you sure you want me to let you outta there?"

Dean's voice had a pleading edge to it.

"Sammy. _Please_?"

Recognising the tell tale sign in his brothers eyes that meant Dean was hurting and battling not to show how much, Sam flashed him an apologetic look and bent to unlock the cage.

"Will it be better to let you to work your own way out? Or can I help?"

Dean's gaze sought out the now open cage doorway.

"Do it on my own. S' juss' a few aches an' pains that's all. Nothin' much."

-o-

His older brothers attempts to drag himself out of the cage didn't go well, leaving Dean cursing in part out of frustration and partly in response to the grinding hurt that moving caused him in his ribs and back. Dean had to give in and he reluctantly looked to his waiting brother for help.

"Sorry. Can't do it."

Sam gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Good job I'm here for you then...Tell me when you're ready. This'll probably hurt like a bitch."

Eyes tightly closed, Dean grimaced and gave Sam a nod, signalling that he was ready.

-o-

Sam's prediction was right on the money.

-o-

Sam gazed critically down at the older Hunter. Free of the cage, Dean was lying full length on the floor. A clean blanket sorted out by Sam from the jumbled pile of similarly worn others that he had spotted was rolled up and placed under his brother's head for a pillow. A further blanket had been spread over him then fussily tucked neatly all around by a younger brother who, Dean firmly believed, slipped far too easily and happily into the role of broody Mother Hen.

Dean gazed back up at Sam.

"Stop starin' at me, creep."

Sam smiled.

"Just makin' sure I've tucked you in properly. Right, I'm goin' to get the car now. I won't be long, ring me if you get lonely."

Dean wasn't about to admit it out loud but, having access to a phone when he was about to be left alone with all these cages and Natalie's body, however briefly, was reassuring. Sam caught the swift glance Dean cast towards Natalie, and he went to where the daemon was laid. Bending to grab hold of the body's wrists, he was surprised to feel the first signs of rigor mortis already beginning to set in.

"Might as well take this with me. While I'm gone I'll pile all three together, salt and oil them but I won't light them up till just before we leave...Unless?...Do you want chance for a last cuddle with your date while I go get the car?"

Dean screwed his nose up in distaste.

"You're sick. Take it away."

-o-

Dragging the female's body unceremoniously out to the lot, Sam deposited it next to Jethro's remains and carried out a fast search through the pockets of her leather jacket, smiling briefly at recovering Dean's phone. Next, Sam looked through the window into what had been Natalie's car, and spotted the key still in the ignition. Going around to the driver's side, Sam squeezed himself down into the seat, then set about trying to create some breathing space between himself and the wheel. After some further wriggling, shuffling and adjusting, his mind was made up. Sam sprinted the short distance from the lot entrance to the Land Cruiser and was very soon parking up close to the storage unit, while keeping a distance from Jonah's foul smelling remains.

-o-

Despite Sam's efforts not to be away too long, when Sam walked back into the unit it was to find Dean upright, after a fashion. His brother had managed to untangle himself from his blanket cocoon and get to his feet unaided. However, Dean was now bent over and supporting himself by keeping one hand flat on top of his recent cage, while his other arm was wrapped supportively around the ribs on his right side. Yellow bile was pooled on the floor close to his feet, evidence that his movements had taken their toll. Feeling a mixture of irritation and concern, Sam hurried across to his brother, transferring Dean's weight from the cage top and on to himself.

" _Dean_! What the Holy Piccolo do you think you're playin' at bro'?"

Dean flashed Sam a bemused look.

"Holy _what_ now?"

Panicking, Sam ignored his older sibling and ploughed on, failing to notice the increasingly rapid, shallow and stuttering breaths Dean was taking.

"You were supposed to stay where you were and wait for me Dean! You _really_ couldn't listen for once and do what I told you?"

Dean's reply came as an apologetic broken whisper.

"You gone so long...Thought somethin' happened...Thought you...Needed help. _Sorry_."

Frowning, Sam shifted his brother's weight so that he could see Dean's face better, for the first time noticing his pallor and the sweat running in rivulets down his forehead and neck. As if he was in the throws of an asthma attack, Dean's body was relying heavily on the muscles in his neck, rather than in his chest, to pull in small, panting breaths of air around the pain and he was swallowing hard, looking as if he was fighting the need to throw up again.

" _Crap_! Dean? You think with me helpin' you'd make it to that chair?

Seeking out the chair Jonah had been using, Dean fixed his attention onto it, calculating to himself that the piece of furniture was only around five feet away. How hard could that be? Refusing to acknowledge that his legs were already starting to feel like lead weights, Dean answered as casually as he could, every inhalation causing searing, white hot spears of pain in his right ribs that had him repeatedly pausing after breathing out, until he had no option but to inhale again, shuddering

"No...Problem."

Despite his determination, Dean's upper body still arrived before his legs did, leaving Sam having to lift his sibling in order to get Dean's body aligned again before depositing him down on the chair. Grabbing one of Dean's abandoned blankets, Sam knelt down in front of his brother and dried the sweat off his face.

"How you doing?"

Dean felt too exhausted to lie, so answered honestly.

"Breathin'... Hard n'...Hurts."

Sammy "The Hands" Winchester had his brother's grimy tee rolled up before Dean could think to defend himself.

"Gerroff."

Sam muttered as he stared in anger and disgust at the extensive bruising across Dean's torso, remembering the sickening feeling of fear and helplessness when all he could do was listen over the phone to Jonah attacking Dean, inflicting the injuries that were now in front of him. Sam replied to Dean with a half-hearted "Make me." In a small act of revenge, Dean reached out and deliberately poked a finger onto one of the cuts that ran down Sam's face, given to him by one of Natalie's nails.

"You gonna need...Holy Water...I'm really, _really_...Gonna help."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
 _Last chap & Epilogue up next._


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17  
-oOo-

Sam half supported, half carried his brother on what ended up being a slow, long, walk outside to the waiting Land Cruiser. Passing near to Jonah's bloodied corpse, Dean half smiled, the smile dying when he spotted the vehicle that they were heading towards and he realised Sam intended to put him in it. Dean's eyebrows instantly arched upwards and, at exactly same time, he planted both feet on the ground as firmly as he could, while shaking his head in protest.

" _No!_...M'not goin'... _Anywhere..._ In _that_!... _No_!"

Gazing at his 'borrowed' ride, Sam looked somewhat offended.

"Why not? There's nothin' wrong with it! It looks cool an' it's supposed to be awesome for off-roadin'!"

Dean stared at Sam like he'd gone insane

"You see it?...S'purple Sammy... _Purple!_...An', an'... _Yellow_!"

Sam looked at the Cruiser critically.

"Well actually, in daylight, it's more of a blue violet...Or might be a violet blue?"

Supporting and guiding his brother, Sam acted on reflex when he felt Dean's body sag, compensating by tightening his hold around his brother's waist.

"Dean? What's happenin'?"

-o-

Dean lifted his head and gazed up at his brother. Sam's fear and anxiety for Dean that had been with him since his brother failed to return home rose and surged through him like a tidal wave, creating a sensation akin to his heart suffering from a sudden onset stammer. All Dean's pretence and barriers were down, leaving behind a level of awful vulnerability rarely shown. Wide green eyes, their normal colour intensified by the shimmer that was the forerunner to imminent falling tears pleaded up at Sam.

" _Please_ Dean, talk to me."

"Where...Where's my baby?...They didn't...They haven't... _Killed_ her...Have they?...Sammy?"

-o-

Stunned, Sam stared back at his unbelievable brother. Different circumstances, different place, Sam might have given into the pronounced urge to either laugh out loud at his brother, or drive off and leave him abandoned in retribution. However, breathing already compromised, Dean's distress at the thought of his car possibly having been murdered by daemons was clearly increasing his difficulties in the battle to draw air into his lungs despite the resulting agony the action deferred to his ribs. In his mind, Sam captured a newly remembered comment made by Dean, a fraction before he was attacked by Jonah.

"Dean! I'm _really_ sorry! I forgot you'd said she... _It_ was here!"

Dean frowned at Sam, then began visually scanning what he could see of the business lot.

" _She_...She's a she."

"An' she's... _There_!...Over there!...See Sammy?...She's still alive...I _know_ it...My Baby! _"_

Looking to where Dean was pointing, Sam could just pick out the deeper black shape of the Impala where it had been left in shadow.

"Bro', I'm not draggin' your ass way over there..."

Dean cut in before Sam could finish his sentence

"Wan' my baby...She's a proper colour...I c'n walk...On my own."

Weak as he was, Dean still made an attempt to push Sam's arm from around his waist. Sam decided a point needed to be made.

"Great! Off you go then."

-o-

Sam moved the arm he had wrapped around Dean just far enough to leave Dean supporting his own weight. He swiftly caught hold of his brother again when Dean's traitorous legs promptly gave way.

"You can walk on you're own, huh?"

Stubborn as ever, Dean countered.

"Yeah...Was juss' gonna...Sit down to...Plot my route"

"Dean, seriously! _Listen_ to yourself dude. Fighting for every breath, legs like rubber, shaking so much it's damn near makin' _my_ teeth rattle, an' bro'? I _know_ it hurts so bad it keeps makin' you wanna puke...Don't even bother to try denyin' it. I mean, we _both_ know your blood oxygen levels are prob'ly down in your ankles, an that can get dangerous. So I guess we _do_ need your baby. You've got two choices. Either you let me carry you to the car, or I sit you right here, on the ground, while I bring _her_ over here. Which is it?"

It was no contest.

"Ground looks...Comfy."

-o-

Haring across the lot towards the Impala, Sam glanced up to the night sky when the first drops of rain spattering on to the dusty ground.

"Seriously? _Now_?"

With the rainfall rapidly increasing, relief swept through Sam on finding the drivers door of the Impala unlocked and the keys still hanging in the ignition. _Must'a been a_ _habit._ Dropping into the driver's seat, Sam readied himself to start up the engine.

"Right old lady, you better work with me here, your true love needs you."

The big car's engine obligingly purred into life straight away. Sam turned the car in Dean's direction, and saw the figure of his brother picked out clearly by the headlights.

"Dean? _Ah, shit_. No."

His brother was lying unmoving on the ground, seemingly oblivious to the rain.

-o-

Pulling up as close to the older Hunter as he dared, Sam left the engine running and the light's on while he hurried to Dean's side. Sam's level of panic hit stellar heights on seeing the pretty shade of blue that his brother's lips had turned.

"C'mon bro'. Don't you _dare_ pull this crap on me now!"

Dean's eyes fluttered open and fixed on his younger brother. Sam was openly freaked out and leaning right over him, using his own body to shield Dean from the heavy rain.

"S'm...Carn'...Breathe."

Fear made Sam sound angry.

" _Bullshit_! Yes, you _can_. Stop talkin' an' focus, 'cos I don't give a _shit_ how bad it hurts, you hear me? _I don't give a shit_! I'm puttin' you in this car, an' you're gonna damn well breathe for me Dean. You _are_! You don't get another option. Let's _do_ this!"

-o-

Sam determinedly closed his ears to the sounds his brother made while being manhandled into the passenger seat of the Impala both as quickly and carefully as possible. He secured Dean's seatbelt, hoping that being sat upright would aid Dean's attempts to breathe, however small any improvement might be. Cupping the side of Dean's face in his hand, Sam turned his brother's head so that Dean was looking at him.

"Dean, you still with me?"

"Uh huh."

"I'll be as fast as I can, but I gotta deal with the bodies. I need you to keep watch for me and sound the horn if anyone pulls in to check on us; ok? Will you do that for me Dean?"

"K."

"Ok. Good. Promise I'll not be long."

Sam had no real need for Dean to keep watch, but by making Dean think he _did_ , Sam hoped Dean would force himself to breathe deeper in order to stay vaguely alert.

-o-

The rain had steadied and seemingly settled itself in for the duration. After a quick glance over at Jonah's corpse, Sam first opened up the Impala's trunk and fished around until he found himself a length of rope, as well as the cannister of oil and tub of salt he needed, before then jogging across to the body. As a side effect of the rain, Sam was happy to find that the odour of blood and urine was less overpowering than previously. He quickly bound the daemon's ankles securely together with the rope, then knotted the two loose ends of rope together, forming a loop. Instead of attempting to keep a grip on the daemon's rain soaked flesh while dragging it to join the other two bodies, Sam grasped the loop of rope with both hands and, walking backwards, used it as a strap handle to tow the heavy weight over the ground.

-o-

With the bodies of the two males side by side, and the female dumped on top, angled across both males, Sam salted them and poured all the oil he had over them. Putting a match to the corpses, he quickly stepped back. This wasn't ceremony, it wasn't release, it was an act of straight forward disposal. Sam watched only long enough to satisfy himself that he had used enough oil for the flames to take hold in spite of the rain, before striding away without a backward glance.

-o-

Dean turned his head slightly as Sam slid back into the Impala's driving seat. His eyes barely open, his voice was nothing more than a whisper between wheezing, whistling, hard won breaths

"Done?"

"Yeah, all done."

"K."

Dean's eyes closed fully, his body slumped forward as far as his seatbelt would allow, his head dropped, hanging so his chin dipped almost onto his chest.

-o-

Sam made several attempts to coax his brother back to consciousness without success, in the end resorting to arranging Dean as best he could so that the older Hunter's head and shoulders were lying on his lap, where he was at least able to tip Dean's head back in an effort to keep his brother's airway open en route to the nearest hospital Sam knew of, situated in the town close to the location of the bunker. Speed was of the essence and, tyres squealing, Sam turned out of the abandoned lot with his entire focus devoted to the road ahead, grateful for the speed the powerful car was able to provide, preparing to push her to the limit in his desperation to get his fading brother to the hospital. He had no reason to glance at the rear-view mirror in order to take any sentimental last look back at the lot, so Sam didn't witness the three figures suddenly materialising out of thin air within the compound, and who stood shoulder to shoulder watching while the Impala sped away.

-o-

" _Some help here please!"_

Sam's vehement call for help, along with the sight of the exceptionally tall man, his face cut, scratched and coated with dried on blood, striding into the E.R. and carrying the lax body of another man bridal style instantly mustered a response. The initial quick response suddenly gathered even more urgency at the cry of the duty Consultant who reached Sam and Dean first.

" _He's not breathin' people_! You all know what to do!...What's his name sir?"

"Dean. Dean Dickenson. He's my brother. I think he's been attacked, there's bad bruising to his right ribs, an he's been strugglin' to breathe for a while now."

The Consultant nodded at a male who was swiftly positioning a mask and bag over Dean's nose and mouth.

"Right ribs? Ok, thanks. _Sister_? Ring down to the theatre's. I want theatre seven staffing, _immediately_! Tell the surgeon, respiratory failure, potential fracturing of right side ribs, probable lung damage. Then, get this man here some paperwork...And a drink. Sir?"

"Sam."

"Sam, the Sister over there will look after you, I'm afraid you can't follow us. I'm sorry"

-o-

Sam was left, glued to the spot in a daze, watching while a set of double doors swung closed behind the team of staff rushing his brother away. He was still stood, unmoving, when a nurse wearing a Sister's uniform came to a halt alongside him and placed a hand against his back.

"Sir?"

"Sam, my name's Sam."

"Right. Sam...I think you should sit down Sam. How aboutt I take you somewhere more private? Then I'll have someone make you a drink as soon as there's somebody free... _Sam_?"

Sam's forlorn gaze remained on the swing doors.

"I...I don't understand? He was breathin', he _was_. When I carried him in here, I _swear_ he was; he was still breathin'."

The Sister tried again, her hand pressing more firmly against Sam's back.

"Come on lovely. Let's get you somewhere quiet, I'm sure you'll feel _much_ more comfortable than being left hanging around here."

Sam finally turned and, bewildered, he looked down at the woman.

"Why's he stopped breathin? _Why_?"

Glancing around, the Sister beckoned one of the male porters over.

-o-

Bert, this is Sam. His friend's been...

"Brother. Dean's my _brother._ "

"I see. Bert, Sam's _brother_ has been taken directly down to theatre. Would you mind escorting Sam to the relative's room and staying with him? Sam's _extremely_ upset right now and would appreciate some company to stay with him till there's news."

Bert was an old hand, easily translating the Sister's words into ' _I want this guy moved. He's in the way, and I don't trust him to be left alone without doing something stupid. I've been told I've got to prioritise another audit report for the hospital administrators. I haven't got time to deal with one's needs, so get him away from here and watch him.'_

Bert nodded his understanding.

"Sure, no problem Sister, more than happy to. Come on Sam, let's _both_ get away from here. I'm guessin' you an' Dean are close? Sounds like you weren't expecting him to be taken to theatre? Anybody say why and what they might be doin' son? If not, I can try and find out for you, if you like?"

-o-

Sam gratefully went with Bert, instinctively knowing that this man genuinely did want to help.

"I'll stay with you till we get the final word from the surgeon about Dean if you want? Whatever you need, I promise you kid, I'll do my _damndest_ to sort it. I got an amazin' sister, if it were her? I'd be tearing this place apart until somebody told me what the heck was goin' on..."

Watching the two men walk out of sight, the Sister breathed a sigh of relief and glanced around, seeking someone to delegate the task to of compiling the all important paperwork they needed this distressed and frightened man to focus on. The care allowed his critically ill brother was limited until their ability to meet the hospital's costs was confirmed, so distressed or not, time mattered with these things. A short time later, sat in her office on her computer preparing that month's report for the auditors, before heading to a meeting to hear the hospital chiefs' latest throughput targets her team now had to achieve, she tried to pin point for herself when being a nurse changed from caring for people like the tall young man and his brother, to being an accountant?

-o-

Three hours later Bert was still with Sam, despite his shift having ended, when the phone in the relative's room rang. Moving to answer it, Bert flashed Sam a serious look.

"Seems somebody's got some news for us finally. You hang in there, Sam. I'll take this. Hello?...Yeah, he's here...Ok, thanks."

Bert returned to his seat alongside the now highly nervous younger man.

"That was theatre reception son. Your brother's surgeon's on her way up to see you. How d'you want to play it? You want me hang around? Or do you want me to disappear?"

-o-

The two men sat in silence waiting for the arrival of the surgeon. Sam had his head bowed, his expression hidden by his hair but, given the pronounced bouncing of one knee, Bert could pretty much judge how Sam was feeling. Keeping his head down, Sam actively flinched at the brief knock on the door when it came. Bert himself only realised he was holding his breath when he released it in a heart-felt sigh of relief at the sight of the smile on the surgeon's face, beaming, he slapped Sam's knee in delight.

"Heads up kid! It's the prettiest surgeon in the whole place come to see yo!"

Feeling the tension flowing from her patent's brother, the surgeon didn't wait for Sam to acknowledge her.

"Your brother's out of danger...Hello Sam."

Raising his head, Sam's face was a mix of grins and tears and he more than willingly returned Bert's high five while the surgeon sat down to talk Sam through his brother's surgery and the plan for his post-op care.

-o-o-o-  
EPILOGUE

Walking into the bunker three days later, Dean stood at the top of the stairway smiling happily as he looked around.

"Home sweet home. This beats cage livin' any day."

Behind him, Sam laughed.

"I imagine pretty much _everythin'_ beats that bro'. You gonna move so I can come in as well?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

Once inside, Sam turned to close the door.

" _Jeeze!_ What the _._..?"

"Not yours, don't get excited. They're for the shorter one, sort of a welcome home gift. Here, go stick them somewhere, there's a good Moose."

Shoving the biggest bunch of pink roses that he had ever seen at Sam, Crowley pushed his way past and began descending the stairs, pausing half way down long enough to let rip with a deafening sneeze.

"Bloody flowers! You'd think as the King of Hell I'd be well shut of my old pollen allergy, wouldn't you?"

At the bottom of the stairs, Dean looked up at Crowley in surprise.

"Seriously? You brought me flowers?"

Smirking, Crowley winked at Dean and strolled casually down the remaining stairs.

"Well sweetie, I _did_ forget to give you anything for Valentine's. How are you? All better now I hope?"

Roses in hand, irritated and stomping down the stairs after Crowley, Sam finally found his voice.

"Crowley, what the Hell are you _doin'_ here? Did you forget again? We _don't like_ _you_!"

Crowley spared Sam a sorrowful glance.

"Ohhh, come on Sammy, where's the love? How long have we known each other now?"

"It's _Sam_ , and way too long. So why're you here? What do you _really_ want?"

Crowley shrugged.

"I suppose a cup of coffee would do for a start. Where's your manners, _Sam_? Kitchen through this way, is it?"

In need of entertainment after the boredom of a hospital room, Dean grinned at his brother's outraged expression.

"Yeah Sammy. Where's your manners? I've gotta visitor! Make that _two_ coffees."

-o-

Leaving his brother spluttering, Dean turned and followed after Crowley, finding him already sat at the kitchen table and looking too at home. Sitting himself opposite the daemon, Dean fixed his attention on Crowley, ignoring Sam's muttering as his younger brother dumped the roses in the middle of the table before moving to the pre-prepared pot of coffee, beginning to search for the smallest cup in the cupboard to offer Crowley.

"C'mon then Crowley. Seriously, what _do_ you want? No way this' just a social."

Clearing his throat, Crowley's eyes shifted away from Dean and he glanced furtively around the kitchen before he rested his forearms on the table top and, lacing his fingers together, once more met the Hunter's gaze.

"If you must know, I came to...Well, to... _Christ_ this' difficult. Any sign of that...Oh, thank you Moose. And in my very own miniature cup!"

Dean was becoming exasperated.

"Crowley!"

-o-

"Fine!..I came here to, y'know, um... _Apologise_...There! I said it. Alright? Happy now?"

Handing Dean his coffee, Sam sat himself down and looked innocently at the King of Hell.

"Excuse me? What was that? I missed it."

Crowley shot him a glare before focusing on Dean again.

"I would like to clarify that I'm _only_ apologising for the entirely _independent_ actions of three of my _ex_ -daemons. However, after word of what happened to you reached my perfectly formed ears, I _personally_ sent a clean up crew to that place. Rest assured, all signs of any unauthorised activities have been removed entirely...So, being the caring sort, I thought I'd make time to pop on over to wish you, how does it go? Ah!...Get Well Soon... _Not_ simply to ensure you knew I had nothing _whatsoever_ to do with what Natalie and her two house pets had got planned for the two of you."

Dean folded his arms across his chest, and raised one eyebrow.

"So when _did_ you first hear about what three of your own were getting up to?"

Crowley's eyes narrowed a fraction.

"You mean, behind my back?...Well, rather annoyingly, yours truly only found out about everything _after_ Natalie bumped Jethro off. You see, after he'd reappeared downstairs and slowly thought things through, he decided he could get his own back on _her_ by confessing to _me_ what they had _all_ been up to...Between us? I got the impression he'd thought that by telling me, he might manage to get himself, quite literally, off the hooks. You know; in a sort of ' _The truth will set you free'_ kind of way?"

Sam couldn't help his curiosity.

"And did it work for him? _Did_ he get himself off the hook? I mean, _hooks?_ "

Crowley's eyes widened, and he looked appalled at the very notion.

" _Sweet Angel excrement!_ No! I can't _abide_ tell-tales! Anyway, it then occurred to me that you two might like to know that all three of them have been very thoroughly, _irretrievably,_ dealt with... Sooo...? Can I assume we're all good neighbours again now?"

Sam voiced his recognition of the reason behind Crowley's unexpected visit.

" _Ah hah!_ I know what this is all about...Your uninvited presence has nothing to do with any concern for Dean's health at all really, _does_ it Crowley? The _real_ reason you're here is because you wanted to make sure we don't come after _you_ over this. Right?"

Crowley offered what he hoped both Hunters would take to be a genuinely friendly smile.

"Well, boys...It _would_ be a tad unfair if you _did_ come after poor innocent me over this, now _wouldn't_ it?"

Sam stuttered.

"P...Poor Innocent y... _You_? You...You're about as innocent as the smile on a salt water crocodile!"

Crowley hiked one eyebrow.

"Did you make your analogy rhyme intentionally there, Moose? Look boys, friends _,_ _mon petits poil de cul_...Despite me being the King of Hell, you can't _possibly_ expect me to know all the itsy bitsy fine detail of every little thing all my little minions get up to 24/7? There _are_ things I can truthfully plead 'Not guilty' to and, in this? I'm as innocent as a precious little new born babe in arms...Any chance of more coffee, in a grown up mug this time?"

-o-

The brothers glanced silently at one another then both stood up and moved, one to either side of Crowley. Their movements synchronised, they each took hold of an arm and hauled the surprised daemon upright. Crowley's feet only just maintained contact with the floor he was bodily and swiftly taken to the bottom of the stairway he had recently sauntered down. Letting go of the flustered and protesting daemon, Sam and Dean each pointed a finger up to the exit door at the top of the stairs. Their voices sounded as one, their instruction to the King of Hell adamant, loud, and prettily punctuated with a cascade of pink roses pouring down over Crowley, courtesy of Sam.

" _Out!...NOW!_ "

The ex-crossroads daemon hesitated at the top of the stairway, and turned to look down at the watching Hunters with a broad smirk.

"You know boys, she was planning on parading you both naked at the auction...Fastest way _ever_ to undermine your asking price...If my memory serves."

Snapping two fingers together Crowley blinked out, leaving the startled brothers staring at a suddenly empty space, stunned by what the King of Hell's parting shot implied.

-oOo-  
 **END  
** Chick xxx  
 ** _Very_** _special thanks to **ncsupnatfan,** both for sticking with this and for taking __time to review.  
_ _ **Girl, if ever there is only you out there, then that's enough for me**. xxxxx_


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